Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 190 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

fore, I beseech you, and permit me to go about my business.” ** Sir,’ said Athos, releasing him, ‘‘ you are by no means polite; it is evident that you come from a dis- tance.” D n had already descended three or four steps, but at the remark of Athos, he stopped short. “ Sir,’ said he, ‘from whatever distance I may come, I assure you that you are not the individual from whom I should *hoose to receive 4 lesson of good manners,” “Perhaps not,” replied Athos. **Ah! would that I were notin such a hurry,” exclaim- ed d’Artagnan, “ and that I were not running after some one!”’ “Sir, you seem in a hurry! you will find me without fTunning: do you understand ?”’ * And where, may it please you ?” * Near des Carmes-Deschaux,”’ , “At what hour?’ “About twelve o'clock.” \ Very well, I will be there.” “Take care that you do not make me wait too long,” eaid Athos, “ for I tell you plainly, at a quarter past twelve, it is I that will run after you,and cut off your tare for you.” “Good !”’ exclaimed d'Artagnan; “ but I will take spe- cial care to be there at ten minutes before twelve.” And he commenced running again, as if the devil kicked him, hoping still to catch his unknown friend, whose slow pace could not yet have carried him beyond his reach. But at the corner of the strect Porthos was talking with one of the soldiers on guard, and between these two there was just space enough for a man to . D’Artagnan fancied that this space was sufficient or him, and he shot forward to rush like an arrow be- tween the two. He had not, however, made allowance for the wi..1, which, whilst he was passing, actually in- ulfed him in the enormous cloak of Porthos, into which é fairly plunged. Doubtless Porthos had cogent rea- sons for not aban ‘oning this most essential portion of his dress; and, therefore, instead of letting go the cor- ner which he held, he drew it more closely towards him, 80 that d’Artagnan found himself rolled up in the vel- vet, by a rotary motion which is clearly explained by the obstinate resistance of Porthos. D'Artagnan, hearing the musketeer swear, wished to escape from under the cloak, which completely blinded him, and sought for an outlet through the folds. Above all things he feared that he had injured the freshness of the magnificent belt, of which we have heard so | much; but on recovering his powers of vision, he found his nose jammed against the shoulder of Porthos; that is, exactly on the belt. Alas! like the majority of the fine things of this world, which are only made for out- ward show, the belt was of gold in front, and of simple leather behind. In fact, Porthos, proud as he was, be- ing unable to afford a belt entirely of gold, had pro- cured one of which the half at least was of that metal. And this may perhaps account for the cold under which Porthos had avowed himself as suffering, and the con- sequent need of the cloak. “ ’Od’s-bodil:ins!"’ cried Porthos, making every effort to free himself from d’Artagnan, who kept poking his nose into his back; “ you are mad to throw yourself in this manner upon peonle.” “Excuse me,” said d'Artagnan, reappearing from be- neath the shoulder of the giant; “ but I was in a hurry; iam running after someone ’’—— “Do you shut your eyes when yournn?’’ demanded Porthos. ‘*No,” answered d’Artagnan, somewhat piqued—“ no; and, thanks to my eyes, I can see what others do not Bee,”’ Whether Porthos understood him or not, he yet gave way to his anger. “Sir,” said he, “ you will get yourself curried, if you thus rub against the musketeers.” 7 *¢ oe , sir!" said d’Artagnan; “ your expression is arsh.”’ “It is such as becomes aman who is accustomed to face his enemies.’’ “Ah, by St. Denis,” replied d’Artagnan, “I know well that you would not turn ey back upon yours!” And the young man, delightec laughing outrageously. Porthos foamed with anger, and was hastening after him, when he cried out: “ By-and-by, by-and-by, when you are without your cloak.’’ “At one o’clock, thin, behind the Luxembourg,” shouted Porthos. “ Very well, at one o'clock,” answered d’Artagnan, as he turned the corner of the street. But neither in the street which he had just traversed. | nor in that down which he looked did he see any one. | Slowly as he had walked the stranger had disappeared. Perhaps he had entered some house. D’Artagnan in- uired after him of every one he met; he even went own to the ferry, returned by the Rue de Seine and | La Croix Rouge, but no one, actually no one, was to be | seen. This racing about, however, was so far service- able to him, that, as the perspiration batheu his fore- | head, his heart grew cool, and he then began ‘> reflect | on the events which had just transpired. T.cy were numerous and inauspicious. It was scarcely eleven o'clock, and already the morning had bronght with it with his joke, marched off, ; the loss of M. de Treville’s favor, who must have deemed | the modein which he left him extremely abrupt; be- sides this, he had picked up two good duels, with two men, each of them capable of slaying three d’Artag- nans; and, lastly, these duels were with two musketeers, with two of those very men whom he esteemed so highly that he ranked them in his mind and heart ve all the world. The state of his affairs was melan- choly ; sure of being killed by Athos, it is clear our muth did not caremuch about Porthos. However, as Sane ts the last thing whichis extinguished in man's impression that he should survive, he gave himself the following rebukes as guard for the future: ‘“ What a hare-brained fellow lam! What abooby! This brave and unlucky Athos was wounded on the shoulder, against which I must therefore run full butt like aram. The only thing which surprises me is, that he did not kill meat once. He would have been justified in doing 80, for the painI caused him must have been excruciating. As for Porthos !|—oh! as for Porthos, upon my word, ft is more droll.”’ And in spite of all his efforts to restrain himself, the a began to laugh, at the same time looking round lest this solitary laugh, which to those who might see him must appear without cause, should offend any one passing. ‘‘ As to Porthos,” he continued, “itis more droll: but I am not the lessa miserable giddy-pate, to throw myself thus upon people, without saying ‘take care.’ And, besides, does any one look un- der a person's cloak to search for what no one supposes to be there? He would donbtless have pardoned me, had I not spoken to him of that cursed belt. It was, it is true, only by insinuation — yes, insinuation. I’faith a pretty business! Foolish Gascon that I am— a pretty kettle of fish I shall make. Come, my friend, d’Artagnan,”’ he continued, addressing himsel | ee er eee ~~ 8 THE THREE GUARDSMEN. a od time perhaps it is too much—that, upon my honor I | heart, he began to hope he might survive—it might be, “ Of the handkerchief ?” am inahurry, a confounded hurry: loose me, there- | to be sure, with some terrible wounds; and, under the ge ng “Perfectly fair,” cried the other two gtrarismen ; “decidedly the judgment of Solomon. Aramis, you are an oracle!” exclaimed the young men, indulging ip hearty laughter; and the r, as may be imagined, was thus deprived of further importance. Immediately afterwards the conversation ceased, and the friends sep- arated with a cordial shaking of hands, the three guards- men going one way, and Aramis another. “Now is my opportunity for making my peace with this brave man,” mentally ejaculated ’Artagnan, whe had kept somewhat aloof during the latter part of the conversation, and who now, impelled by this good feel- ing, approached Aramis, who was departing without sr | any further notice of the youth. “I hope, sir, that you will excuse me,” said he, ad- dressing Aramis. “Sir,”’ rejoined the latter, “ you must permit me to remark, that you have not acted in this affair as a gal- lant man ought to have done.” “Whit interence, sir, am I to draw from your re- mark ?’’ “ Why, sir, I take it for granted that yon are not a foo); and that, although coming from Gascony, you must be well aware that no one walks upon *ket-handker- with all the amenity to which he thought him-| chiefs without sufficient reasons for so doing. Zounds, self entitled ; very probable, you must for the future be extreme y polite ; hereafter every one must admire you, and mvt quote you asa model, To be obliging and polite is not cowardly. Observe Aramis; he is softness and grace personified. And yet did any one ever pretend to sa that Aramis was a coward? No; and for the future will in all points make him my model. Ah! singular enough, here he is.” D’Artagnan, thus walking and soliloquizing, had arrived within a few paces of the hotel d’Aiguillon, and before this hotel he perceived Aramis talking gayly with three gentlemen of the king’s guards, On the other hand, although Aramis perceived d’Artagnan, he had not forgotten that it was before this young man that M. de Treville had given way to passion, and a wit- ness of the reproaches that the musketeers had received was by no means agreeable to him. He therefore pre- tended not to see him: but d’Artagnan, full of his new formed plans of conciliation and courtesy, ap- proached the four young men, making them a profound obeisance, accompanied by a gracious smile. Aramis bowed slightly, but did not smile, All the four, how- ever, at once relinquished their conversation, D’Artag- nan had acuteness eneugh to perceive that he was an intruder; but he was not sufficiently skilled in the ways of the gay world to withdraw himself dextrously from a false position, such as is generally that of a man who joins those he scarcely knows, and intrudes him- self into a conversation which does not concern him, He therefore sought within himself for some means of retreat which might be the least awkward, when he suddenly perceived that Aramis had dropped his hand- kerchief, and, inadvertently, no doubt, had put his foot uponit. The moment appeared to be fayorable for re- pairing his al apropos intrusion ; he therefore stoop- ed down with the most graceful air imaginable, drew the handkerchief from under the musketeer’s foot, not- withstanding the efforts he made to retain it there, say- ing, as he presented it to Aramis, ‘‘ I believe, sir, this is a handkerchief which you would be sorry to lose.” The handkerchief was, in fact, richly embroidered, and had a crown andarms in one ofits corners. Aramis blushed excessively, and snatched, rather than took, the handkerchief from the hands of the Gascon. “Ah! ah!’ said one of the guards, “ will you say now, most discreet Aramis, that you are on bad terms with Madame de Bois Tracy, when that gracious lady con- descends to lend you her handkerchief?’ Aramis threw such a glance at d’Artagnan, as makes aman understand that he has gained a mortal enemy. Then resuming his soft air, ‘ You mistake, comrades,’ said he; “ this handkerchief is not mine, and I know not why this gentleman has had the fancy to give it to me, rather than one of you; and as proof of what I say, here is my own in my pocket.’”’ So saying, he drew from his pocket his own handkerchief, a very, handsome one, of fine cambric, although cambric at the | P time was very dear, but it was without embroidery, without arms, and adorned with a simple cipher, that of its owner. This time d’Artagnan uttered not asyllable. He had discovered his mistake. But the friends of Aramis would not allow themselves to be convinced by his de- nial; and one of them, addressing the young muske- teer with an air of affected solemnity, said: “If the fact is as you assert, my dear Aramis, I shall be compelled to demand possession of the handkerchief. Bois de Tracy being, as you are aware, one of my most intimate friends, and I should not wish anyone to dis- play his wife’s property by the way of a trophy.” “You make this demand with a bad grace,” replied Aramis; “and on this ground alone, even were I to ad- mit its justice fundamentally I should still refuse com- pliance with your request.” “The fact is,’ modestly observed d’Artagnan, “I did not see the handkerchief fall from the pocket of M, Aramis; he had his foot upon it, however, and hence my reason for supposing that it belonged to him.” “And you were mistaken, sir,” coldly replied Aramis, not very grateful for the apology. Then turning to the guardsman who had avowed himself the friend of Bois de Tracy, he added, * Besides, on reflection, my worthy comrade, I am the friend of Bois de Tracy as well as ourself, and this handkerchief, strictly speaking, might ave come from your pocket as well as mine.”’ “No, upon my honor,” said the royal guardsman. ‘You swear by your honor, and I pledge my word; therefore one of us must evidently lie. But come, Monterau, let us do something better than indulge oft counter assertions aud denials; let each of us take ) Mag ‘ —<——sesssssstssteeee-seieeeneenenes ES “should you escape which is nct/| sir, Paris, is not paved with cambric |’ “You do me injustice, sir, in thus endeavoring to hu- miliate me,” d d’Artagnan, in whom the inherent love of quarreling began to operate much more forcibly than his previous pacific intentions. ‘I am a Gascon, it is true; and, as you do not require to be informed, the Gascons are not very largely endowed with patience: therefore, when they have once peer, meat. even should it be for some imprudence, they consider that they have done one half more than they ought to do.” “What I have said to you, sir,” retorted Aramis, “ia not for the purpose of seeking a quarrel with you. Thank God! Iamno bnlly; and being a musketeer only for the time being, I never fight except when I am compelled, and then with the utmost reluctance. This, however, is a serious affair, for you perceive that a lady is compromised by your conduct.”’ “Say rather by our conduct,” cried d’Artagnan. “Why did yor perpetrate such a stupid blunder as te give me this handkerchief?” “Why were you so awkward as to let it fall ?’’ “T have declared, and I repeat, sir, that this hand- kerchief did not come from my pocket.” “ Well, then, you have twice lied ; for I myself saw it fall from your pocket.” “Ah, is this the tone you choose to assume, Sir Gas- con? Well, I must teach you how to behave better.”’ ‘*And I will send you back to your cassock, M. Abbe; so draw, if you please, this instant !’’ “No, I thank you, my fine fellow, not here, at any rate. Do you not perceive that we are opposite the hotel d’Aiguillon, which is full of the cardinal’s crea- tures? In fact, who can say that it is not his eminence who has commissioned you to procure my head for him? Now, as it happens that I entertain what may appear to you a ridiculous affection for my head, pro- vided it remains tolerably firm on my shoulders, I wish, before parting with it, to kill you. But keep yourseH quite easy on that score; I will kill you very gently, in a retired and secret spot, where you may not be able to’ boast of your death to any one.” “Tam quite agreeable,” replied d’Artagnan; “but do not be too sure; and here, take away your handkerchief, whether it belongs to you or not; probably you may have occasion for it.” ‘*Spoken like a true Gascon, sir,” said Aramis. “Yes; but that is no reason why you should delay our little affair, unless, indeed, you are influenced by more prudential motives.’’ “I know well that prudence, although indispensable to churchmen, is a virtue unknown to the musketeers,’” replied Aramis; ‘and being, as I have informed you, only a soldier for the nonce, I am resolved to remain. prudent. At two o'clock I shall have the honor of await ing you at the hotel of M. de Treville, where I will con- duct you to a more convenient spot.” The two young men then bowed to each other and arted. Aramis proceeded towards the Luxembourg; whilst D’Artagnan, finding that the time approached took the road to the Carmes Deschaux, all the while ip- wardly ejaculating—*“ Positively, I cannot escape! but if am killed, at all events it will be by a musketeer.”’ CHAPTER VY. THE KING’S MUSKETEERS AND THE CARDINAL'S GUARDE. D’ARTAGNAN knew no one in Paris. He therefore went to meet Athos without being provided with a second, having made up his mind to be satisfied with those which accompanied his adversary. Besides he fully in- tended to offer the brave musketeer an apology, which, whilst it should be suitable and proper, should at the same time betray nothing having the slightest appear- ance of timidity or weakness. He also feared such a result from this duel as may be naturally anticipated in an affair of this nature, where a young and vigorous man fights with an opponent who is wounded and en- feebled; and in which, should the former be yanquish- ed, the triumph of his antagonist is doubled: whilst. should he prove the conqueror, he is not only accused of being brave at small risk, but even his courage is re- garded as extremely doubtful. Moreover, unless we ave been unsuccessful in our attempt to portray the true character of our adventurer, the reader must have already remarked, that d'Artagnan was not a man of the ordinary stamp. Therefore, although he could not divest himself of the idea that his death was inevitable, he had by no means resolved quietly to resign himself to his fate with that patience which another less cour- ageous than himself might have displayed in similar circumstances, He pondered upon the different chara¢- ters of those with whom he was about to fight, and at ooo) . eom ate “* +. fi g*, 4 - 7