Essential Novelists - Alexandre Dumas. Alexandre Dumas

you are now about to hear it. Sit down there, before me, d’Artagnan; you are gentleman enough not to listen standing.” And the cardinal pointed with his finger to a chair for the young man, who was so astonished at what was passing that he awaited a second sign from his interlocutor before he obeyed.

      “You are brave, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” continued his Eminence; “you are prudent, which is still better. I like men of head and heart. Don’t be afraid,” said he, smiling. “By men of heart I mean men of courage. But young as you are, and scarcely entering into the world, you have powerful enemies; if you do not take great heed, they will destroy you.”

      “Alas, monseigneur!” replied the young man, “very easily, no doubt, for they are strong and well supported, while I am alone.”

      “Yes, that’s true; but alone as you are, you have done much already, and will do still more, I don’t doubt. Yet you have need, I believe, to be guided in the adventurous career you have undertaken; for, if I mistake not, you came to Paris with the ambitious idea of making your fortune.”

      “I am at the age of extravagant hopes, monseigneur,” said d’Artagnan.

      “There are no extravagant hopes but for fools, monsieur, and you are a man of understanding. Now, what would you say to an ensign’s commission in my Guards, and a company after the campaign?”

      “Ah, monseigneur.”

      “You accept it, do you not?”

      “Monseigneur,” replied d’Artagnan, with an embarrassed air.

      “How? You refuse?” cried the cardinal, with astonishment.

      “I am in his Majesty’s Guards, monseigneur, and I have no reason to be dissatisfied.”

      “But it appears to me that my Guards—mine—are also his Majesty’s Guards; and whoever serves in a French corps serves the king.”

      “Monseigneur, your Eminence has ill understood my words.”

      “You want a pretext, do you not? I comprehend. Well, you have this excuse: advancement, the opening campaign, the opportunity which I offer you—so much for the world. As regards yourself, the need of protection; for it is fit you should know, Monsieur d’Artagnan, that I have received heavy and serious complaints against you. You do not consecrate your days and nights wholly to the king’s service.”

      D’Artagnan colored.

      “In fact,” said the cardinal, placing his hand upon a bundle of papers, “I have here a whole pile which concerns you. I know you to be a man of resolution; and your services, well directed, instead of leading you to ill, might be very advantageous to you. Come; reflect, and decide.”

      “Your goodness confounds me, monseigneur,” replied d’Artagnan, “and I am conscious of a greatness of soul in your Eminence that makes me mean as an earthworm; but since Monseigneur permits me to speak freely—”

      D’Artagnan paused.

      “Yes; speak.”

      “Then, I will presume to say that all my friends are in the king’s Musketeers and Guards, and that by an inconceivable fatality my enemies are in the service of your Eminence; I should, therefore, be ill received here and ill regarded there if I accepted what Monseigneur offers me.”

      “Do you happen to entertain the haughty idea that I have not yet made you an offer equal to your value?” asked the cardinal, with a smile of disdain.

      “Monseigneur, your Eminence is a hundred times too kind to me; and on the contrary, I think I have not proved myself worthy of your goodness. The siege of La Rochelle is about to be resumed, monseigneur. I shall serve under the eye of your Eminence, and if I have the good fortune to conduct myself at the siege in such a manner as merits your attention, then I shall at least leave behind me some brilliant action to justify the protection with which you honor me. Everything is best in its time, monseigneur. Hereafter, perhaps, I shall have the right of giving myself; at present I shall appear to sell myself.”

      “That is to say, you refuse to serve me, monsieur,” said the cardinal, with a tone of vexation, through which, however, might be seen a sort of esteem; “remain free, then, and guard your hatreds and your sympathies.”

      “Monseigneur—”

      “Well, well,” said the cardinal, “I don’t wish you any ill; but you must be aware that it is quite trouble enough to defend and recompense our friends. We owe nothing to our enemies; and let me give you a piece of advice; take care of yourself, Monsieur d’Artagnan, for from the moment I withdraw my hand from behind you, I would not give an obolus for your life.”

      “I will try to do so, monseigneur,” replied the Gascon, with a noble confidence.

      “Remember at a later period and at a certain moment, if any mischance should happen to you,” said Richelieu, significantly, “that it was I who came to seek you, and that I did all in my power to prevent this misfortune befalling you.”

      “I shall entertain, whatever may happen,” said d’Artagnan, placing his hand upon his breast and bowing, “an eternal gratitude toward your Eminence for that which you now do for me.”

      “Well, let it be, then, as you have said, Monsieur d’Artagnan; we shall see each other again after the campaign. I will have my eye upon you, for I shall be there,” replied the cardinal, pointing with his finger to a magnificent suit of armor he was to wear, “and on our return, well—we will settle our account!”

      “Young man,” said Richelieu, “if I shall be able to say to you at another time what I have said to you today, I promise you to do so.”

      This last expression of Richelieu’s conveyed a terrible doubt; it alarmed d’Artagnan more than a menace would have done, for it was a warning. The cardinal, then, was seeking to preserve him from some misfortune which threatened him. He opened his mouth to reply, but with a haughty gesture the cardinal dismissed him.

      D’Artagnan went out, but at the door his heart almost failed him, and he felt inclined to return. Then the noble and severe countenance of Athos crossed his mind; if he made the compact with the cardinal which he required, Athos would no more give him his hand—Athos would renounce him.

      It was this fear that restrained him, so powerful is the influence of a truly great character on all that surrounds it.

      D’Artagnan descended by the staircase at which he had entered, and found Athos and the four Musketeers waiting his appearance, and beginning to grow uneasy. With a word, d’Artagnan reassured them; and Planchet ran to inform the other sentinels that it was useless to keep guard longer, as his master had come out safe from the Palais-Cardinal.

      Returned home with Athos, Aramis and Porthos inquired eagerly the cause of the strange interview; but d’Artagnan confined himself to telling them that M. de Richelieu had sent for him to propose to him to enter into his guards with the rank of ensign, and that he had refused.

      “And you were right,” cried Aramis and Porthos, with one voice.

      Athos fell into a profound reverie and answered nothing. But when they were alone he said, “You have done that which you ought to have done, d’Artagnan; but perhaps you have been wrong.”

      D’Artagnan sighed deeply, for this voice responded to a secret voice of his soul, which told him that great misfortunes awaited him.

      The whole of the next day was spent in preparations for departure. D’Artagnan went to take leave of M. de Treville. At that time it was believed that the separation of the Musketeers and the Guards would be but momentary, the king holding his Parliament that very day and proposing to set out the day after. M. de Treville contented himself with asking d’Artagnan if he could do anything for him, but d’Artagnan answered that he was supplied with all he wanted.

      That night brought together all those comrades of the Guards of M. Dessessart and the company of Musketeers