Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 190 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

Om ee eee —o— ——_— ee ee 2] ———————— $$$ THE THREE GUARDSMEN. % ” *Y —. ie ‘*Well! She must be gone to her estate, for she has | his horse, and throwing the bridle to Planchet, ‘‘ you sent meno answer.” ** Really?’ | ‘‘No; so L sent a second letter yesterday, rather more | pressing than the first. But, my dear fellow, letus chat | you at present.” about your own affairs. I confess, I was beginning to feel some uneasiness on your account.” ‘‘But your host has behaved pretty well to you, ap- parently,” said d’Artagnan, pomting to the teeming stewpans, and the empty bottles. ‘*So-so!”’ replied Porthos: * itis two or three days ago, and that I showed them the door—both himself and his bill: so that I am now living here in something of the style ofa conqueror. And, as you see, being somewhat afraid of being attacked in my entrenchments, I am armed to the very teeth.” ** Nevertheless,’’ said d’Artagnan, laughing, ‘‘it seems that you sometimes make sorties.” And he pointed to the stew-pans and the bottles. ‘Itisnot me, unfortunately,’ said Porthos, ‘‘ This miserable sprain keeps me in my bed; but Mousqueton, there, forages the country for supplies. Mousqueton, my friend,’’ continued Porthos, ‘you see that a rein- forcement has arrived: we shall want an addition to our rations.” 5 ‘* Mousqueton,” said d’Artagnan, ‘‘ there is a service you must do for me. ** What is it, sir?’ ‘* To give your recipe to Planchet! I may chance to be besieged myself hereafter, and I should not be at all sorry to enjoy all the advantages with which you gratify your master.”’ ‘Oh, sir,’ said Mousqueton, modestly, ‘‘ nothing is more easy. One must be a little adroit—that is all. | was brought up in the country, and my father, in his leisure moments, was somewhat of a poacher.”’ ‘** Well!’ said Porthos, ‘* make all eer Mousqueton; and whilst we breakfast, d’Artagnan will tell us what has happened to him during the ten days that he has been absent from us.”’ Whilst Porthos and Mousqueton breakfasted with all the appetites of convalescents, and that brotherly cor- dliality which draws men together in misfortune, d’Ar- tagnan related that Aramis, being wounded, had been outaren to stop at Creveceeur; that he had left Athos fighting, at Amiens, with four men, who accused him of being a coiner; and that he himself had been compelled to run the Count de Wardes through the body, in order to reach England. But there the confidence of d’Artagnan ended; he merely announced that, on his return from England, he had brouvht four splendid horses with him, one for himself, and one for each of their companions; and he concluded by informing Porthos that the one destined for him was alre in the stables of the hoted. 5 At this moment Planchet entered; he intimated to his master that the hérses were sufficiently refreshed, and that it would be possible to go and sleep at Clermont. 1 As d’Artagnan was pretty well satisfied as to Porthos state, and was anxious to gain some information con- cerning his two other friends, he gave his hand tothe invalid, and told him that he should now proceed to con- tinue his researches, And, as he expected to return by the same road, if Porthos, in seven or eight days, was stillat the hotel of the Great Saint Martin, he would take him up upon his way. Porthos answered, that in all probability his sprain would confine him until that time; and, moreover, he must wait at Chantilly fora rome from the duchess. D’ Artagnan wished him a speedy and fay orable letter: and, after having again commended him to the care of Mousqueton, and paid the landlord his own expenses, he once more took the road with Planchet, who was already relieved of one of the led horses, CHAPTER XXVI. THE THESIS OF ARAMIS, D'ARTAGNAN had said nothing to Porthos, either about his wound, or about the attorney's wife. Young as he was, our Bearnese was a very discreet youth, Con- sequently, he had pretended to believe everything that the boasting musketeer had told him, convinced that no friendship can support itself against a secret discoy- ered, especially when that secret wounds the pride; since one always has a certain moral superiority over those whose fraikies we are acquainted with. In his plans for the future, resolved as he was to make his three friends the instruments of his success, d’Artagnan was not sorry to collect in his hand those invisible threads by the aid of which he meant to lead them. It was under the dominion of this hallucination that per ic rye agg over, at the pace that his horse pleased to take, the six or eight leagues which separated Chantilly from Creveceeur, without having, on his ar- rival at the latter village, any recollection of the things he had encountered on the road. But there, memory returned to bim; he shook his head, perceived the tavern where he had left Aramis, and, putting his horse mto a trot, pulled up at the door, {t was not a landlord, this time, but a landlady, who received him. D’Artagnan, being somewhat of a phy- siognomost, examined, ata glance, the fat and good- humored face of the mistress of the place; this glance satistied him that dissimulation was not necessary with her, and that he had nothing to fear from such a happy- ng countenance. ‘*My good lady,’ demanded d'Artagnan, ‘can you tell me what has me of one of my friends, whom I was obliged to leave here about twelve days ago? ‘*‘A handsome young man of about twenty-three or twenty-four years of age, mild, amiable, and well made?” ‘* Exactly. 80; and, moreover, shoulder.”’ ‘Just so. Well, he is still here?’ “‘ Ah, my dear lady,” said d’Artagnan, springing from wounded in the — give me life! Where is this dear Aramis? Let me em- race him, for I confess that I long to see him.” ‘* Pardon me, sir, but I question whether he can see “Why not? is there a lady with him?” ‘Oh! dear me, sir, what a question. No, sir, he has not a woman with him.” ‘Whois he with, then?” ‘* With the curate of Montdidier, and the superior of Poor youth! 70, the Jesnits of Amiens.”’ now, that the impudent fellow brought me =: his bill, | ‘*Good God!” exclaimed d’Artagnan, “is the poor young man so very ill?” , ‘*No, sir, on the contrary. But towards the end of his illness, he has been touched by grace, and has de- termined on entering into holy orders.”’ ‘*Ah, true!’ said d’Artagnan; “I had forgotten that he was only a musketeer for atime.” ‘* Do you still insiston seeing him, sir?” ‘‘Oh, yes, more than ever.”’ ‘* Well, then, you have only to take the left-hand stair- case in the court-yard, to No. 5, on the second floor. D’Artagnan quickly followed this direction, and found one of those ontside staircases which may still be some- times seen inthe court-yard of old fashioned inns, But it was no such easy matter to get admission tothe future abbe, The avenues of Aramis's chambei were as strictly guarded as the gardens of Armidus, Bazin was sta- tioned in the corridor, and barred the passage against him with the more intrepidity, as after many years of trial, he saw himself at length on the eve of obtaining that distinction, of which he had always been ambi- tious, In fact, the dream of poor Bazin had ever been, to serve achurchman, and he impatiently expected the so- long-anticipated moment, when Aramis would at last throw off his military coat and adopt the cassock. It had only been by the daily reiteration of this promise, that he had been induced to continue in the service of the musketeer, in which, as he said, he could not fail to forfeithis salvation. Bazin was therefore at the very summit of happiness. There was every probability that his master would not break his word this time. The union of physical and moralpain, had produced the effect so long desired, Ara- mis,suffering at once in mind and body, had at length fixed his thoughts and eyes upon religion; and he had re- garded, as a warning from heaven, the double accident which had befallen him—that is to say, the sudden dis- appearance of his mistress, and the wound in his shoulder, In such a mood, it may be easily imagined, that noth- ing could have been more disagreeable to Bazin, than the appearance of Sip tampons which might again throw his master into the whirlwind of those worldly ideas, of which he had been so long the spcrt He resolved, therefore, bravely to defend the door: and as, betrayed by the landlady, he could vot say that Aramis was out, he attempted to prove to the new comer, that it wouid be the height of impropriety to in- terrupt the pious conversation which his master had maintained since morning, and which, as Bazin added, could not be concluded before night. But d'Artagnan paid no attention to the eloquent dis- course of Bazin; and, not wishing to enter into a polem- | j ] Ce — aserious danger,’’ continned Aramis, addressing the tt aepenspatetee as he pointed to d’Artagnan with his and. ‘ ‘Praise God for it, sir,” replied they, bowing their heads in concert. ‘“‘[have not failed to do so, reverend fathers,’’ re- plied the young man, as he returned their salutation. ‘You are come jjust at the right time, my deai d’Artagnan,’’ continued Aramis; ‘‘and,by takin part in our discussion, you will enlighten it by your abiiit . M, the Principal of Amiens, M. the Curate ef Montdidier, and myself, are arguing certain theological questions, which have long interested us, and on which I shall be delighted to set py opinion.”” “The opinion of a soldier has but little weight,” re- plied d’Artagnan, who began to be uneasy at the turn things were taking: ‘‘ you may rely upon the wisdom of these gentlemen.” : When they were left alone, the two friends at frst maintained an embarrassed silence. Nevertheless, it was imperative that one of them should speak first, and orn was determined to leave that honor to his friend. sah Yon see me,”’ said Aramis, “returned to my original eas.”? ‘Yes, as the gentleman said just now—efficacious grace has touched you.” “Oh, these plans of retirement have long been formed, and you, my friend, have often heard me speak of them, have you not?” ‘Yes, certainly; but I confess that I always thought you were joking.” ‘* What! about such things as these? Oh, d’Artag- nan!” ‘* Why, we joke even in the face of death.”’ ‘“‘And we are wrong to do so,” said Aramis, “for — is the gate which leads to salvation or condemna- on.” “Agreed,’’ said d’Artagnan. ‘‘But do’ not let us discuss theology; you must have had enough for the day; and, as for me, I confess I have almost forgotten the litrle Latin that I ever knew; and besides, to tell the truth, I have eaten nothing since ten o'clock this morning, and am as hungry as twenty devils.” “We will dine present Ym dear friend, only, you will remember, that this is Wednesday, and on that day I can neither eat meat, or see “gp eaten. If you will be contented with my dinner, it is composed of boiled tetragones and fruit.” “What do you mean by tetragones?” anxiously in- quired d'Artagnan. : ‘* ] mean spinach,’’ replied Aramis; ‘‘ but for you I will add some eggs, although itis a grave infraction of rule, eggs being certainly meat, since they produce the chicken.” ' ‘** This feast is not very Sane but never mind: to remain with you I will submit to it.” ‘IT am grateful to you for the sacrifice,’ replied | Aramis, ‘* but, if it be not beneficial to your body, de- pend upon it it will ag as to your soul.”’ ‘*So, Aramis, you decidedly entered the church? What will your friends say? hat will M. de Treville say? They willlook upon you as a deserter, I forewarn you.” ‘*Ido not enter the church—I return to it. It was ical discussion with his friend’s valet, he simply put | the church that I deserted for the world, for you are him aside with one hand, and unfastened the door of No. | #ware that I did violence to my inclinations in taking | 5 with the other. The door opened, and d’Artagnan entered the apart- ment. Aramis, in along black coat,.and with his head en- | the college?” cased in a kind of round flat cap, which was no bad reppenetiselian of a skull cap, was seated at a long table, covered With rolls of paper, and enormous folios; on his right sat the superior of the Jesuits; and, on his left, the curate of Montdidier. The curtains were half closed, giving entrance only to a subdued, mysterious light, appropriate to holy meditation. All those worldly objects which are apt to strike the eye in the chamber of a young man, and ihn when that young man is a musketeer, had disappeared, as though by enchant- ment; and, doubtless, from a fear that the sight of them might recall his master’s mundane predilections, Bazin had ‘aid hands upon the sword, the pistols, the plumed hat and the embroidery and lace of every sort and kind. But instead of these, d’Arta an obscure corner, something hanging by a nail to the wall. At the noise which d’Artagnan made on entering, Aramis raised his head, and recognized his friend. But to the great surprise of the young man, this sight did not seem to produce much impression on the muske- saat, so much was his mind detached from all terrestrial airs. ‘*How are you, my dear d’Artagnan?”’ said Aramis. ‘* Believe me, [ am glad to see you.” “And I, also.”’ said d’Artagnan; “‘ although I am not yet quite sure that it is Aramis I am speaking to.” “The same, the same, my friend: but what could make you doubt it?” ““I thought I had made a mistake In the room, and entered the chamber of a churchman. And then another terror seized me, when I found you in the company of these gentlemen—lI feared you were dan penounly ill.” The two menin black launched a glance almost of menace at d’Artagnan, whose intention they gegen but he did not on that account disturb himself. ‘*Perhaps I inconvenienced you, my dear Aramis,”’ continued d’Artagnan; ‘for, from what I see, I am led to suppose that you are confessing to those gentle- men.’ Aramis colored slightly. “Oh, no, on the contrary, my dear friend; and, as a proof of it, permit me to swear to you, that i rejoice at Blan, tie safe and sound!” - he is coming to himself again,” thought d’Artag- nan! ‘‘ this is fortunate!” ‘This gentleman, whe is my friend, has just escaped an fancied he saw, in ke a cord of discipline, i ' the uniform of a musketeer.”’ ‘*] know nothing about it.” ‘‘ Are you ignorant, then, of my reasons for quitting ‘* Entirely so.’ “Then listen tomy history. Besides, the Scriptures say, ‘confess yourselves to one another,’ and 4 shall confess to you, d’Ar an.”’ ‘‘And I give you absolution beforehand: you know that I am a good-hearted fellow." ‘** Do not jest with sacred things, my friend.” ** Go on, then: I am listening.” ‘Thad been at the seminary from the age of nine ‘ears until I was one-and-twenty; in three days more was to be an abbe, and all would have beenover. One evening, when I went, according to my custom, to a house which I frequented with pleasure—what can be expected from the young but weakness ?—an officer, who was jealous because I often read the Lives ofthe Saints to the mistress of the honse, suddenly came in unan- nounced. On that very evening I had been translating an epistle of Judith into verse, and was communica it to the lady, who was paying me all sorts of com ments, and was leaning on my shoulder to read the ~ verses over withme. The attitude, which was, I con- fess, somewhat unconstrained, offended the officer: he said nothing at the time, but when I went out, he fol- lowed me and overtook me. ‘M.1l°Abbe,’ said he, ‘do you like to be caned?’ ‘I cannot tell, sir,’ said I, ‘no one hes | ever dared tocane me.’ * Well, then, hear me, M.)’‘Abbe: if you enter that house again, where I met you this evening, I will dare to do it.’ ‘*1 believe I was afraid: I became very pale; I per- , ceived that my legs failed me; I sought for some answer, | but found none; so I kept silent. he officer waited for iny answer; but finding thatit did not come, he began to laugh, turned upon his heel, and re-entered the .o4 ‘‘T returned to theseminary. I ama gentleman born, and have a high spirit, as you have remarked, Py dear d’Artagnan. The insult was terrible; and, entirely un- known as it was to the rest of the world, I felt jelring | and moving at my very heart’s core, I d to my superior, that I did not think myself suffi- ciently prepared for ordination, and at yey the ceremony Was put offforayear. Isoughtthe best fenc- ing-master in Paris; l engaged to take one lesson of h'm every day; and ever day, throaghout a whole rear I took that lesson. Then on the very anniver. sary of the day on which I had been insulted, I hung my cassock on a peg; [ took thecomplete costume of a cavalier, and went to a ball given by a lady of my ae- quaintance where I knew that I should find my man, (E} 0 )(0)@) (E()