Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 190 — page 1: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

—- ae = = UNE rT @' TL | i WA MMM N QaorwvrRiGrtttTe & Published Every Week. ardsmen. BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, AUTHOR OF “ TWENTY YEARS APTER,’ ETC. CHAPTER I. THE THREE PRESENTS OF M. D’ARTAGNAN, THE FATHER. On the first Monday of the month of April, 1625, the small town of Meung, the birth-place of the au- thor of the ‘*Romance of the Rose,’’ appeared to be in as complete a state of revolution as if the Hu- ruenots were come to make a second siege of La Rochelle. Many of the townsmen, seeing the women flying along the chief street and leaving the children squalling at their thresholds, hastened to don their armor, and, fortifying their somewhat wavering courage witha musket or partisan, they proceeded towards the hotel of the “Jolly Miller," to which a vast and accumulating crowd was hastening with intense curiosity. At that period alarms were frequent, and few days passed without some town or other registering in their archives an event of this description, There were the nobles, who made war on each other; there was the king, who made war with the cardinal; there was the Spaniard, who made war with the king; then, besides these wars, concealed or public, se- cret or open, there were, moreover, robbers, beggars, Huguenots, wolves, and lacqueys, who made war on the whole world. The townsmen, always armed themselves ainst the rob- bers, the wolves and the lacqueys, frequently against the nobles and the Huguenots; sometimes against the king; but never-against the car- dinal and the Spaniard., From this custom, therefore, it arose that on the aforesaid first Monday in the month.of April, 1625, the Lownepen hie, hearing a noise and seeing neither the yellow and red flag nor the livery of the Duke of Richelieu, rushed towards the hotel of the “‘ Jolly Miller,” Hav- ing reached it, everyone could see and understand the. eause of, the alarin,. A young man— But let us trace his portrait with one stroke of the pen. Fancy to yourself Don Quixote at eighteen- Don ixote skinned, without his coat of mail or greaves—Don Quixote clothed in.a woolen doublet, whose blue color Was chan to an undye- able shade, a shade between the dregs of wine and a celestial blue. The countenance 1o and brown; the cheek bones high, denoting acute- ness: the muscles of the face enor- mously developed—an infallible mark by which the Gascon may be recog- nized, even without the cap, and our youth wore a cap, adorned with a sort of feather; the eye full and in- telligent; the nose hooked, but finely formed; the whole figure too large for a youth, yet too small for a full- yrown man, but one whom an inex- nerienced eye would have taken for the son of a farmer on a journey, had it not been for the long sword, which, hanging from a leathern belt, banged iurainst the rough coat of his steed when he was mounted: for our vouth had a steed, and this steed was at the same time so remarkable as to at- tract observation. It was a Beaurese galloway, of about twelve or fourteen years of age, yellow as an orange, without any hair on its tail, but an abundance of humps on ifs legs, and which, whilst carrying its head lower than its knees, making the applica- tion of a martingale perfectly useless, yet managed gallantly its eight leagues a day. Unfortunately, these useful qualities of the steed were so well concealed under its strange skin } | hs ! Hi in = tt eh ME ~ | = i Hliihadity. ahehbl 4 . . = - . a -_ _ nw , r ~ 1 } nytt im = ma > —_ Lich AU ihe AEN Wiel i" ae »4 afi] hel ) ~~ dbp = , = ~ \ '[t™ -_—- ——-— —_—— — = — ee — ——_ 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y., June 14, 1882. —— = ——— —— ' and eceentric gait that at a time when every- one knew something of horses, the oes of the aforesaid galloway at Meung, which it had en- | tered about a quarter of an hour before, by the gate | ite rider. SS eee —- ~woe _ ce | ** IN GOD’s NAME. MY LORD!" THE COMBATANTS, of Beaugency, produced a somewhat unenviable sensation or impression, which extended even to And this impression was the more pain- ful to young d’Artagnan (for that was the name of the Don Quixote of this second Rosinante), that he could not conceal from himself the ridiculous plight in which he, albeit so good a horseman, was placed by such a steed. . He had, therefore, sighed deeply when he had accepted the gift from M rg a his father; he knew that, such a beast was worth about twenty franes.. It is true that the words which accompanied the present. were above price. ‘* My son,’’ said the Gascon gentleman, in the pure ENTERED AT THE PosT OrFice AT New York, N. YY), at Seconp Class Mairi Rates. Feadle. G Adams, Publishers, — ee — Beaurese patois or dialect, which Henry IV. could. never entirely shake off; '‘my son, this horse was | born in the paternal family about thirteen years ago, and has remained in it ever since, whieh ought to make you regard it with affection. Never sell it; let it die calmly and honorably of old age; and should rou make a campaign with it, take as much care of tas you would ofan old servant. At the court, if you should ever have the honor to go there—an hon- _ ample which I offer or, however, to which your long line of noble ances- | tors entitles you—support with dignity the name of gentleman, which has been honorably borne by ° SAID MADAME BONANCTEUX, THROWING HERSELF BETWEEN AND SEIZING THEIR SWORDS WITH BOTH HER HANDS. iaoee, av SE ADOLE . & Aa CRA KASS me -_—_-_— + Ten Cents a Copy. $5.00 a Year. — No. 190 _———— + your ancestors, for you and your descendants, for more than 500 years. Never quietly submit to the slightest indignity, except it may proceed from the cardinal or the king. It is by his courage—anark this well—it is by his co e alone, that a gentle- man makes his way now-a-days. Whoever hesitates one moment, perhaps lets that chance escape. him, which fortune, for that moment alone, has put with- in his reach. You are young, and ought to be brave, for two reasons: the first, because you are a Gascon; the second, because you are my son, Doubt not that there will be opportunities, and look about for adventures...You. have .been taught to handle the sword; you have muscles of iron, a wrist like steel; fight whenever you can, fight the more because duels are forbidden, and consequently it requires twiee as much courage to fight. have but fifteen crowns to give you, my son, besides the horse and advice which you now hear, Your mother will add to them the recipe for a, certain salve, which she procured from a Bohémian woman, and which has the miraculous power of curing eve wound which does not touch the heart. Take ad- vantage of all this, and live long and happily. I have Only one word more to add, and it is an ex- yon; not my own, for I have never been at court: I have only served in the re- ligious War as a volunteer. Iwish to speak to you of M, de Treville, who was formerly my neighbor, and who has had the honor of play- ing, whilst a boy, with our king, Louis XIII, whom God preserve. Sometimes their sports turned to bat- tles, and in these battles the king had not always the best of it; yet the cuffs he received from M. de Treville imbued him with a at deal of esteem and =e for him. “ Afterwards M. de Treville, merely during his journey to Paris, fought five es with other persons; from the death of the late monarch to the majority of the young king he has fought seven times, without reckon- ing campaigns and sieges: and since that majority to the present day, erhaps a hundred times! And yet, im spite of edicts, ordinances and ar- rests, behold him now captain cf the Life Guards; that is, chief of a legion of Cmsars, upon whom the icing mainly depends, and who are feared by the cardinal, who, as everyone knows, is not afraid of a trifle. More- over, M. de Treville gains ten thou- sand crowns a year, and therefore is a man of consequence. He began the world as you do. . Go to him with this letter, and let your conduct be regulated by him, that you may méet with the same success.” Hereupon M, d'Artagnan, the fath- er, girded his own sword upon his son, tenderly kissed him on each cheek, and gave him his blessing. Leaving the paternal chamber, the young man found his mother waiting with the famous recipe, and from the advice he had just received, it seemed very probable that. he would require to use it pretty often, The fenewell of his mother was longer and much more tender than that of his father; uot, but that M. d'Art n loved his son, who was his child, but M. d’Artagnan was a man who would have considered it unworthy of himself.to give way to aly emotion; whilst Madame d’ar- tagnan was @ woman, and, what is more, she was @ mother. She weptmuch; and, to the credit of M. d’Artagnan the son, we may as well, say that, whatever efforts he made to remain firm, as became the future guardsman, nature gained the day, and he shed many tears, half of which be had great difficulty in concealing. The same day our youth took his way, furnisheg GOMmiiGooo (E “S