Essential Novelists - Alexandre Dumas. Alexandre Dumas

caused by loss of blood.

      Then M. de Treville made a sign with his hand, and all retired except d’Artagnan, who did not forget that he had an audience, and with the tenacity of a Gascon remained in his place.

      When all had gone out and the door was closed, M. de Treville, on turning round, found himself alone with the young man. The event which had occurred had in some degree broken the thread of his ideas. He inquired what was the will of his persevering visitor. D’Artagnan then repeated his name, and in an instant recovering all his remembrances of the present and the past, M. de Treville grasped the situation.

      “Pardon me,” said he, smiling, “pardon me my dear compatriot, but I had wholly forgotten you. But what help is there for it! A captain is nothing but a father of a family, charged with even a greater responsibility than the father of an ordinary family. Soldiers are big children; but as I maintain that the orders of the king, and more particularly the orders of the cardinal, should be executed—”

      D’Artagnan could not restrain a smile. By this smile M. de Treville judged that he had not to deal with a fool, and changing the conversation, came straight to the point.

      “I respected your father very much,” said he. “What can I do for the son? Tell me quickly; my time is not my own.”

      “Monsieur,” said d’Artagnan, “on quitting Tarbes and coming hither, it was my intention to request of you, in remembrance of the friendship which you have not forgotten, the uniform of a Musketeer; but after all that I have seen during the last two hours, I comprehend that such a favor is enormous, and tremble lest I should not merit it.”

      “It is indeed a favor, young man,” replied M. de Treville, “but it may not be so far beyond your hopes as you believe, or rather as you appear to believe. But his majesty’s decision is always necessary; and I inform you with regret that no one becomes a Musketeer without the preliminary ordeal of several campaigns, certain brilliant actions, or a service of two years in some other regiment less favored than ours.”

      D’Artagnan bowed without replying, feeling his desire to don the Musketeer’s uniform vastly increased by the great difficulties which preceded the attainment of it.

      “But,” continued M. de Treville, fixing upon his compatriot a look so piercing that it might be said he wished to read the thoughts of his heart, “on account of my old companion, your father, as I have said, I will do something for you, young man. Our recruits from Bearn are not generally very rich, and I have no reason to think matters have much changed in this respect since I left the province. I dare say you have not brought too large a stock of money with you?”

      D’Artagnan drew himself up with a proud air which plainly said, “I ask alms of no man.”

      “Oh, that’s very well, young man,” continued M. de Treville, “that’s all very well. I know these airs; I myself came to Paris with four crowns in my purse, and would have fought with anyone who dared to tell me I was not in a condition to purchase the Louvre.”

      D’Artagnan’s bearing became still more imposing. Thanks to the sale of his horse, he commenced his career with four more crowns than M. de Treville possessed at the commencement of his.

      “You ought, I say, then, to husband the means you have, however large the sum may be; but you ought also to endeavor to perfect yourself in the exercises becoming a gentleman. I will write a letter today to the Director of the Royal Academy, and tomorrow he will admit you without any expense to yourself. Do not refuse this little service. Our best-born and richest gentlemen sometimes solicit it without being able to obtain it. You will learn horsemanship, swordsmanship in all its branches, and dancing. You will make some desirable acquaintances; and from time to time you can call upon me, just to tell me how you are getting on, and to say whether I can be of further service to you.”

      D’Artagnan, stranger as he was to all the manners of a court, could not but perceive a little coldness in this reception.

      “Alas, sir,” said he, “I cannot but perceive how sadly I miss the letter of introduction which my father gave me to present to you.”

      “I certainly am surprised,” replied M. de Treville, “that you should undertake so long a journey without that necessary passport, the sole resource of us poor Bearnese.”

      “I had one, sir, and, thank God, such as I could wish,” cried d’Artagnan; “but it was perfidiously stolen from me.”

      He then related the adventure of Meung, described the unknown gentleman with the greatest minuteness, and all with a warmth and truthfulness that delighted M. de Treville.

      “This is all very strange,” said M. de Treville, after meditating a minute; “you mentioned my name, then, aloud?”

      “Yes, sir, I certainly committed that imprudence; but why should I have done otherwise? A name like yours must be as a buckler to me on my way. Judge if I should not put myself under its protection.”

      Flattery was at that period very current, and M. de Treville loved incense as well as a king, or even a cardinal. He could not refrain from a smile of visible satisfaction; but this smile soon disappeared, and returning to the adventure of Meung, “Tell me,” continued he, “had not this gentlemen a slight scar on his cheek?”

      “Yes, such a one as would be made by the grazing of a ball.”

      “Was he not a fine-looking man?”

      “Yes.”

      “Of lofty stature.”

      “Yes.”

      “Of pale complexion and brown hair?”

      “Yes, yes, that is he; how is it, sir, that you are acquainted with this man? If I ever find him again—and I will find him, I swear, were it in hell!”

      “He was waiting for a woman,” continued Treville.

      “He departed immediately after having conversed for a minute with her whom he awaited.”

      “You know not the subject of their conversation?”

      “He gave her a box, told her not to open it except in London.”

      “Was this woman English?”

      “He called her Milady.”

      “It is he; it must be he!” murmured Treville. “I believed him still at Brussels.”

      “Oh, sir, if you know who this man is,” cried d’Artagnan, “tell me who he is, and whence he is. I will then release you from all your promises—even that of procuring my admission into the Musketeers; for before everything, I wish to avenge myself.”

      “Beware, young man!” cried Treville. “If you see him coming on one side of the street, pass by on the other. Do not cast yourself against such a rock; he would break you like glass.”

      “That will not prevent me,” replied d’Artagnan, “if ever I find him.”

      “In the meantime,” said Treville, “seek him not—if I have a right to advise you.”

      All at once the captain stopped, as if struck by a sudden suspicion. This great hatred which the young traveler manifested so loudly for this man, who—a rather improbable thing—had stolen his father’s letter from him—was there not some perfidy concealed under this hatred? Might not this young man be sent by his Eminence? Might he not have come for the purpose of laying a snare for him? This pretended d’Artagnan—was he not an emissary of the cardinal, whom the cardinal sought to introduce into Treville’s house, to place near him, to win his confidence, and afterward to ruin him as had been done in a thousand other instances? He fixed his eyes upon d’Artagnan even more earnestly than before. He was moderately reassured, however, by the aspect of that countenance, full of astute intelligence and affected humility. “I know he is a Gascon,” reflected he, “but he may be one for the cardinal as well as for me. Let us try him.”

      “My