Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 190 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

i oa Beet aeh se See RN ea tan ei aR eck sae) a aa ae aes Tera L. . * ‘ Ly pis y , chai .) oy ae a8 ar) of ae Be + So AM \ * : < . * 4 : - ' ee ‘ ’ t; ’ ash “30 THE THREE GUARDSMEN. : (RR ae EON Rea Sen ee eS RE AERA NR I ma mt re ORT — wn ny he “But, apropos,"’ resumed M. de Treville, “what is | sword, and placed two pistols in his belt. They eatth | silvered over the foliage of two or three linden trees, eae become of your three companions?” bestrode a horse, and went off quietly. It was a dark | which formed a group without the park. Doubtless. ‘ “*] was just going to mguire whether you had not re- | night, andnone saw them depart. Planchet followed | behind that little window, which was eo kindly lighted On ceived any tidings of them!" his master at a distance of ten paces. up, the pretty Madame Bonancieux awaited him. A ** None whatever, sir."’ D’Artagnan passed over the quays, went out by the | lingering sensation of difiidence restraincd her; but. i “Well, Ileft them behind me on my way—Porthos, at | gate de la Conference, and proceeded along the then | now, the hour had struck, the window would be opened, Chantilly, wi ha duef on his hands; Aramis, at Crevo- | charming road—far more beautiful then than now— | and d’Arta: nan would at last reeeive from the hands of A Take ceur, with a bullet in his shoulder: and Aihos, at | which leads to St. Cloud. ’ love, the meed of his devotion. 4 ee Amiens, under an accusation of Nagegartt bad money.” | Aslongasthey continued inthe town, Planchet kept Flattered by this sweet persuasion, d’Artagnan waited af* PS “Look there, now!" suid M. de Treville, ‘* And how | the respectful distance that he had fixed for himself; | a half-hour, without any impatience, keeping his cyes | did Ae escape yourself?” but, when the road became more lonely and obscure, he { fixed upon that charming little abode; and distinguish- ; * By a miracle, sir, 1 ong! t to confess: with a sword beled drew nearer, 80 that, when they entered the | ing, through the upper part of the window, a part of bas : thrust in the chest, and by pinuing the Count de Wardes | Bois de Boulogne, he found himself quite naturally | those gilded cornices of the ceiling which gave evidence Nips 9" on his back, -n the read to Calais, as o..e might pin a| marching side by side with his master. In fact, we | of the elegance of the remainder of the apartment. ar _ butterfly upon the tapestry.” must not conceal that the waving of the trees, andthe | The belfry of St. Cloud announced half-past ten. a if “There again! De Wardes—one of the cardinal’s men, | reflectionof the moon among the sombre copses, caused | But, this ‘time, without @’Artecnan know ing why, a and a cousin of Rochefort’s. Come, my dear friend, an | him much uneasiness. D'Artagnan perceived that some- shudder ran through his veins. Pvrhaps, also, the cold idea has struck me.” thing extraordinary was incommoding his lackey. began to affect him, and he mistook for amoral im. ** Speak, sir.” “Well, Planchet,’’ demanded he, *‘what ails yon | pression what was in reality a sensation altogether “In your position, there is one thing that I would do.” | now?”’ physical. A ‘ “What is it?” **Do you not find, sir, that woods are like churches?"’ hen the idea occurred to him that he had misunder-. ** Whilst his eminence was seeking for me at Paris, I ‘“*And why, Planchet?” - stood the hour of appointment, and that it must have 4 would return, without sound o: drum or trumpet, on **Becanse one isas much afraid of speaking loudly in | been at eleven instead of ten. ‘ the road to Aaah and would endeavor to find out | the one asin the other.” He approached the window, placed himself under the | what had become of my three companions. Surely, at “Why dare you not speak loudly, Planchet—because | ray of light, drew the letter from his pocket, and read it the least, they merit this slig..t attention on your part.”’ | you arein fear?” again. He was not mistaken; the appointment wae a: -** The advice is good, sir, and to-merrow I will go.” Yee, sir; in fear of being heard.” | really for ten o'clock. (eB “To-morrow! and why not this evening?" “Fear of being heard! Our conversation is very | He resumed his post, becoming uneasy at the silence Bae) _ . “This evening, sir, lum detained in Paris by an af-| moral, my dear Planchet, and no one would find any- | and solitude. eee fair of importance.” thing in it to censure.” It struck eleven. iM: a, “Ah, young man! young man! some little love affair. \ |r Take care! repeat it once more, it is woman who tte has always ruii ed us, even from the beginning, and ae sss. who will still ruin us to the end, Be advised by me, ey a! and depart this evening.” ae ~ “Tmpessible, sir.” “Have you given your word!" aAned eir.“* “That is another matter; but promise me, that, if you are not kil'ed to-night, you will set out to-morrow.”’ ., — “T promize you.’ . pyou want money?” ‘aj * “T have ae pisioles remaining; it is as much aa I tie shall requ re, I think.” amy ** But your companions?" be: *T think that they can bein no want. We left Paris with seventy-five pistol:-s in the pocketsof each of us,” * Shall I see you avain before your departure?” “T think not, sir, unless anything new should occur.” i “ Well, » good journey to you.” : “Thanks, sir.” And ’Artagnan took his leave of M. de Treville, more than ever sensible of his paternal solicitnde for his musketeers. He went successively tothe homes of Athos, Porthos and Aramis; but nove of them had returned. Their rervants were also absent, and nothing had been heard of »ny of them. He might possibly have gained some tidings of them -. fromthcir mistresses, but he knew not those of Por- i*os and Aramis; and Athos had none. Inpiesingthe hotel of the guards, he looked in at “1e stables, Three of the four horses were already there, Planchet, quite astounded, was busy currying them, and had already finished two out of the three. “Ah, sir,’ said Planchet, ‘thow glad I am to see 4 yon.’ “4 ; “And why so, Planchet?"’ demanded the young man. “Can ~ou depend on M. Bonancieux, our landlord?" ' . “Me? ot in the slightest degree.” * And yon are quite right, too, sir.” ‘But why do youask the question?” ed . * Because whilst you were talking to him, I looked s,s WWEthout iistening, sir; and his countenauce changed ae ; color two. wx three times.”’ ‘ “ ’ _ “You did not observe it, sir, preoccupied as you were Yo by t! cetter you had just received; but Lon the contrary, ay ty had been put on my guard by the strange manner | <a an <2 ) . a 44) = : JF ait tr ae on fs | ite ‘ ' tg Der _ } one variation of his countenaace escape me,” F And what did you discover?” ‘ 2 | E patne is a traitor. * , 3 rr Wy *‘And, moreover, the moment you had turned the ‘~, corner of the street, M. Bonancieux took his hat, shut his door and began to run down the opposite street.”’ “Upon my word, youare quite right, Planchet; all thisl oks awkward enough: but be contented—we will a nis written.” * "Then, sir, you do mot renounce your expedition this eventng?”’ ' “Qn the contrary, Planchet, the more I dislike M. | _ Bonancienux, the more inclined am I to keep the appoint- ae.’ ment. in this letter, which disturbs you so much.”’ UU Sie ‘Then itis your determination?” pee yf + *‘Immovably so, my friend; therefore, at seven o'clock be ready here at the hotel, and I will come and find you, « Planchet, acathe there was no hope of making his ~~. master renounce his project, heaved a profound sigh ‘a and set to work carrying the third horse. - |. Agford’Artagnan, who was fondamentally a young ye is . aan of great prudence, instead of going to his own Ait ei home, he ye Et dined with +r eo: pay see {| © priest, who, during the temporary distress of the four | J ok Picade had given them a breakfast of chocolate, tes ’ glint Kn Eee the u 7 d ' "i i™ } Pa : ” | J - > i ry Ag ° | * my » i = 4 j CHAPTER XXIV. # a , , he Ts THE PAVILION. Oe ee: Agen nine o'clock, d'Artagnan was at the Hotel des at, Pat He found Planchet under arms, and the fourth oe) horse arrived. Planchet was armed with his carbine fr and pistol. D’Artagnan had provided hinsself with his @ “aE sy: ea : _ ey + id 5 : te in which this letter had got into the house, did not let | Fh not pay him one farthing of rent till all this is satisfac- wt yy torily explained,” ‘ “You poke sir, but you will see.” | _—,. ** What would you have, Planchet? That which will | signal, he waited. ‘Ah, sir,” replied Planchet, returning to the ruling idea in his mind, ‘what a rullen look that M. Bonan- cleux has about his eyebrows, and something so un- pleasantin the working of hie lips.” **What the plague makes you think so much of M. | Bonancieux?”’ ‘*Sir, we think of what one must, and not of what one would.”’ “Because you are a coward, Planchet.” ‘* Let us not confound prudence with cowardice, sir. Prudence is a virtue.” ‘* And you are virtuous, are you not, Planchet?’’ ‘Is not that the barrel of a musket, sir, shining there below? Suppose we were to stoop onr heads?” **Really,’’ muttered d'Artagnan, who remembered the advice of M. de Treville; *‘realy this animal will finish by making me afraid.’ And he put his horse into a trot Planchet followed his master’s movements, precisely as if he had been his shadow, and soon found himeelf trotting by his side. “Must we travel in this manner, all the night, sir?’ demanded he. ! ** No, Planchet, for you are at your journey’s end.” ‘What! Iam at my journey’send? And you, sir?” **T shall go some little way farther.” ** And you leave me here alone, sir?’ ** Are i afraid, Planchety”’ “mo. out F will merely observe to you, sir, that the to will be very cold; that cold causes rheumatism; and that a lackey who has the rheumatism makes but a Leede servant, especially to such an active master as I vel’ “Well, then, if yon are cold, you can enter one of those wine shops which you see down there; but yu must be waiting for me before the door, at six o'clock to-morrow morning.” ‘* But, sir, 1 have most dutifully eaten and drank the | crown that you gave me this morning; so that I have a even a stray sous remaining, in case I should feel cold.”’ “There is a half-pistole. Good by till to-morrow morning.” D’Artagnan Planchet, and cloak. **Good God! how cold I am!" exclaimed Planchet, as soon as he had lost sight of his master; and, eager as he war to warm himself, he hastened to rap at the door of & house, which had all the appearance of a suburban drinking-shop. In the meantime, d'Artagnan, who had taken a small cross-road, reached St, Cloud; but instead of proceeding along the main street, he turned behind the castle, went down a narrow, unfrequented Jane, and soon found himself opposite the appointed pavilion. It was situ- ated in a perfect desert of aplace. <A long wall, at the -corner of which was the pavilion, ran along one side of this Inne; and, on the other, a hedge protected from the wayfarer a small garden, at the bottom of which there stood a miserable cottage. He had now reached the place of appointment: and as he had not been told toannounce his presence by any got off his horse, threw the bridle to iurried away, closely enveloped in his ot a sound was heard: he might have fancied himself | a hundred leagues from the capital. D’Artagnan cast a | ghaince behind him, and then leant his back against the hedge, Beyond this hedge, and garden, and cottage, a | heavy mist enveloped in its shade that vast immensit where Paris slept; a void and open immensity, in whic some luminous points glittered like the funeral stars of that vast pandemonium of phd and sin. But to d’Artagnan, all aspects Indicated beauteous forms; all images were wreathed in smiles, ail dark- ness was transparent light. ‘The appointed hour was on the eve of striking. In fact, at the end of a few minutes, the belfry of St. Cloud slowly emitted ten strokes from its broad, bellow- ing jaws. i ere was something melancholy in that voice of bronze, which thus breathed its lamentations in the night. But each of those sounds, which told the hour he sighed for, vibrated harmoniously in the heart of the young man, - His eyes were fixed on the gcd in which stood at the corner of the wall, and of which all the windows bbehy closed with shutters, except one upon the first | Noor, | From this window there shone a soft light, which D’Artagnan began to fear that something had really happened to Madame Bonancicux. fe clapped his hands three times—the usual signal of lovers—but nothing, noteven an echo, returned anan- swer. And then he thought, with some displeasure, that the young woman had perhaps fallen asleep whilst waiting for him. And then d’Artagnan became more frantic. He rar upon the highway, hastened along the road he had come by, and advanced as far as the ferry-boat, and questioned the ferryman. About seven o'clock in the evening, the boatman had ferried over a woman, enveloped ina dark cloak, whe seemed to be exceedingly anxious to escape recogni- tion; but, precisely on account of her precautions, he had been the more observant, and had discovered that. she was young and pretty. There were then, as now, crowds of young and pretty women, whocame to St. Cloud, and who had reasons for desiring to remain unseen; yet d'Artagnan doubted not for an instant, thatit was Madame Bonancieux whom the ferryman had brought across. D’Artagnan took advantage of the lamp in the ferry- man's cotiage, to read the note of Madame Bonancieux once more, and to assure himself that he had made no mistake— that the appointment was really at St. Clond, and not elsewhere, and before the pavilion of M. d’EKes- trees, and notin another street. Everything concurred £0 Pore to d’Artagnan, that his presentiments did not deccive him, and that some | great misfortune had actually occurred, He ran back towards the castle, fancying that during his absence, something new might have taken place at the pavilion, and that some fresh instructions might be awaiting him there, | The lune was still deserted, and the same calm, soft light streamed from the window. D’Artagnan then thought of that dark and wretched | tp — doubtless had seen, and might perhaps. | also speak, The gate of the enclosure was shut, but he jumped | over the hedge, and, in spite of the barking of the chained dog, approached the cottage. A death-like | At his first summons, no one answered, | silence prevailed here, as well as in the pavilion: yet, as this cottage was his last resource, he persisted ge Wi 8 uree, he pe ; | Now he fancied he heard a slight noise within—a | om noise, which seemed itself to be afraid of being 1eard, Then d’Artagnan ceased to knock, and entreated in such a piteous accent of fear, mingled With flattery, that his voice would have reassured the most timorvus. At length an old worm-eaten shutter was opened, or rather half opened, and instantly shut again, as soon as the light of a miserable lamp, which was burning in a corner, had disclosed the belt, the handle of the awor and the pistols of d’Artagnan. And yet, quick as ad had been able to see the head of un old man, “tn the name of heaven!"’ said he, “listen to me. I Fe igh Roane sane who is not come. I am dying from anxiety. as any misfortune h ’ , nei shborhood ? Speak!” aPRS Ais | ‘The window was again slowly opened, and the same countenance reappeared, only it was more pale than before. D’Artagnan told his story simply, merely withholding | names: he stated that he had an appointment with a | young woman, before this pavilion; and that, not seeing her come, he had climbed the linden tree, and had, by _the light of the lamp, perceived the disorder of the | room, ‘The old man listened attentively, with many signs of assent; and when Ss had ended, shook his head. in a manner which boded no good, ‘‘ What do you mean?’ exclaimed d’Artagnan; “in the name of heaven, explain yourself!" ‘Oh, sir!’ said he, ‘do not ask me an hing; for, if I should tell you what I have seen, nost assuredly ne | good will befall me.” | ‘You have seen something, then?” exclaimed d’Artag ‘nan, ‘In that case, in heaven’s name,’ continued hey. _ throwing him a pistole, ‘tell me what you have seen, and, on the honor of a gentleman, not one of your words shall pass my lips.” The old man read so much frankness and grief in d’Artagnan’s countenance, that he made him a sign to listen, and said in a low voice:-— ‘It was about nine o'clock, that I heard some oise é | been the movement, he ‘ ! : te ‘ ts , , \ ala @ @ I - MRL ~~ OO Hm ye ‘ —_