Chapter VIII.

D’Artagnan, Going to a Distance to discover Aramis.

On entering the hotel D’Artagnan saw a man sitting in a corner by the

fire. It was Planchet, but so completely transformed, thanks to the old

clothes that the departing husband had left behind, that D’Artagnan

himself could hardly recognize him. Madeleine introduced him in

presence of all the servants. Planchet addressed the officer with a

fine Flemish phrase; the officer replied in words that belonged to no

language at all, and the bargain was concluded; Madeleine’s brother

entered D’Artagnan’s service.

The plan adopted by D’Artagnan was soon perfected. He resolved not to

reach Noisy in the day, for fear of being recognized; he had therefore

plenty of time before him, for Noisy is only three or four leagues from

Paris, on the road to Meaux.

He began his day by breakfasting substantially—a bad beginning when one

wants to employ the head, but an excellent precaution when one wants to

work the body; and about two o’clock he had his two horses saddled, and

followed by Planchet he quitted Paris by the Barrière de la Villete. A

most active search was still prosecuted in the house near the Hotel de

la Chevrette for the discovery of Planchet.

At about a league and a half from the city, D’Artagnan, finding that in

his impatience he had set out too soon, stopped to give the horses

breathing time. The inn was full of disreputable looking people, who

seemed as if they were on the point of commencing some nightly

expedition. A man, wrapped in a cloak, appeared at the door, but seeing

a stranger he beckoned to his companions, and two men who were drinking

in the inn went out to speak to him.

D’Artagnan, on his side, went up to the landlady, praised her

wine—which was a horrible production from the country of Montreuil—and

heard from her that there were only two houses of importance in the

village; one of these belonged to the Archbishop of Paris, and was at

that time the abode of his niece the Duchess of Longueville; the other

was a convent of Jesuits and was the property—a by no means unusual

circumstance—of these worthy fathers.

At four o’clock D’Artagnan recommenced his journey. He proceeded slowly

and in deep reverie. Planchet also was lost in thought, but the subject

of their reflections was not the same.

One word which their landlady had pronounced had given a particular

turn to D’Artagnan’s deliberations; this was the name of Madame de

Longueville.

That name was indeed one to inspire imagination and produce thought.

Madame de Longueville was one of the highest ladies in the realm; she

was also one of the greatest beauties at court. She had formerly been

suspected of an intimacy of too tender a nature with Coligny, who, for

her sake, had been killed in a duel, in the Place Royale, by the Duc de

Guise. She was now connected by bonds of a political nature with the

Prince de Marsillac, the eldest son of the old Duc de Rochefoucauld,

whom she was trying to inspire with an enmity toward the Duc de Condé,

her brother-in-law, whom she now hated mortally.

D’Artagnan thought of all these matters. He remembered how at the

Louvre he had often seen, as she passed by him in the full radiance of

her dazzling charms, the beautiful Madame de Longueville. He thought of

Aramis, who, without possessing any greater advantages than himself,

had formerly been the lover of Madame de Chevreuse, who had been to a

former court what Madame de Longueville was in that day; and he

wondered how it was that there should be in the world people who

succeed in every wish, some in ambition, others in love, whilst others,

either from chance, or from ill-luck, or from some natural defect or

impediment, remain half-way upon the road toward fulfilment of their

hopes and expectations.

He was confessing to himself that he belonged to the latter unhappy

class, when Planchet approached and said:

“I will lay a wager, your honor, that you and I are thinking of the

same thing.”

“I doubt it, Planchet,” replied D’Artagnan, “but what are you thinking

of?”

“I am thinking, sir, of those desperate looking men who were drinking

in the inn where we rested.”

“Always cautious, Planchet.”

“’Tis instinct, your honor.”

“Well, what does your instinct tell you now?”

“Sir, my instinct told me that those people were assembled there for

some bad purpose; and I was reflecting on what my instinct had told me,

in the darkest corner of the stable, when a man wrapped in a cloak and

followed by two other men, came in.”

“Ah ah!” said D’Artagnan, Planchet’s recital agreeing with his own

observations. “Well?”

“One of these two men said, ‘He must certainly be at Noisy, or be

coming there this evening, for I have seen his servant.’

“‘Art thou sure?’ said the man in the cloak.

“‘Yes, my prince.’”

“My prince!” interrupted D’Artagnan.

“Yes, ‘my prince;’ but listen. ‘If he is here’—this is what the other

man said—‘let’s see decidedly what to do with him.’

“‘What to do with him?’ answered the prince.

“‘Yes, he’s not a man to allow himself to be taken anyhow; he’ll defend

himself.’

“‘Well, we must try to take him alive. Have you cords to bind him with

and a gag to stop his mouth?’

“‘We have.’

“‘Remember that he will most likely be disguised as a horseman.’

“‘Yes, yes, my lord; don’t be uneasy.’

“‘Besides, I shall be there.’

“‘You will assure us that justice——’

“‘Yes, yes! I answer for all that,’ the prince said.

“‘Well, then, we’ll do our best.’ Having said that, they went out of

the stable.”

“Well, what matters all that to us?” said D’Artagnan. “This is one of

those attempts that happen every day.”

“Are you sure that we are not its objects?”

“We? Why?”

“Just remember what they said. ‘I have seen his servant,’ said one, and

that applies very well to me.”

“Well?”

“‘He must certainly be at Noisy, or be coming there this evening,’ said

the other; and that applies very well to you.”

“What else?”

“Then the prince said: ‘Take notice that in all probability he will be

disguised as a cavalier;’ which seems to me to leave no room for doubt,

since you are dressed as a cavalier and not as an officer of

musketeers. Now then, what do you say to that?”

“Alas! my dear Planchet,” said D’Artagnan, sighing, “we are

unfortunately no longer in those times in which princes would care to

assassinate me. Those were good old days; never fear—these people owe

us no grudge.”

“Is your honor _sure?_”

“I can answer for it they do not.”

“Well, we won’t speak of it any more, then;” and Planchet took his

place in D’Artagnan’s suite with that sublime confidence he had always

had in his master, which even fifteen years of separation had not

destroyed.

They had traveled onward about half a mile when Planchet came close up

to D’Artagnan.

“Stop, sir, look yonder,” he whispered; “don’t you see in the darkness

something pass by, like shadows? I fancy I hear horses’ feet.”

“Impossible!” returned D’Artagnan. “The ground is soaking wet; yet I

fancy, as thou sayest, that I see something.”

At this moment the neighing of a horse struck his ear, coming through

darkness and space.

“There are men somewhere about, but that’s of no consequence to us,”

said D’Artagnan; “let us ride onward.”

At about half-past eight o’clock they reached the first houses in

Noisy; every one was in bed and not a light was to be seen in the

village. The obscurity was broken only now and then by the still darker

lines of the roofs of houses. Here and there a dog barked behind a door

or an affrighted cat fled precipitately from the midst of the pavement

to take refuge behind a pile of faggots, from which retreat her eyes

would shine like peridores. These were the only living creatures that

seemed to inhabit the village.

Toward the middle of the town, commanding the principal open space,

rose a dark mass, separated from the rest of the world by two lanes and

overshadowed in the front by enormous lime-trees. D’Artagnan looked

attentively at the building.

“This,” he said to Planchet, “must be the archbishop’s château, the

abode of the fair Madame de Longueville; but the convent, where is

that?”

“The convent, your honor, is at the other end of the village; I know it

well.”

“Well, then, Planchet, gallop up to it whilst I tighten my horse’s

girth, and come back and tell me if there is a light in any of the

Jesuits’ windows.”

In about five minutes Planchet returned.

“Sir,” he said, “there is one window of the convent lighted up.”

“Hem! If I were a ‘Frondeur,’” said D’Artagnan, “I should knock here

and should be sure of a good supper. If I were a monk I should knock

yonder and should have a good supper there, too; whereas, ’tis very

possible that between the castle and the convent we shall sleep on hard

beds, dying with hunger and thirst.”

“Yes,” added Planchet, “like the famous ass of Buridan. Shall I knock?”

“Hush!” replied D’Artagnan; “the light no longer burns in yonder

window.”

“Do you hear nothing?” whispered Planchet.

“What is that noise?”

There came a sound like a whirlwind, at the same time two troops of

horsemen, each composed of ten men, sallied forth from each of the

lanes which encompassed the house and surrounded D’Artagnan and

Planchet.

“Heyday!” cried D’Artagnan, drawing his sword and taking refuge behind

his horse; “are you not mistaken? is it really for us that you mean

your attack?”

“Here he is! we have him!” cried the horsemen, rushing on D’Artagnan

with naked swords.

“Don’t let him escape!” said a loud voice.

“No, my lord; be assured we shall not.”

D’Artagnan thought it was now time for him to join in the conversation.

“Halloo, gentlemen!” he called out in his Gascon accent, “what do you

want? what do you demand?”

“That thou shalt soon know,” shouted a chorus of horsemen.

“Stop, stop!” cried he whom they had addressed as “my lord;” “’tis not

his voice.”

“Ah! just so, gentlemen! pray, do people get into a passion at random

at Noisy? Take care, for I warn you that the first man that comes

within the length of my sword—and my sword is long—I rip him up.”

The chieftain of the party drew near.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a lofty tone, as that of one

accustomed to command.

“And you—what are _you_ doing here?” replied D’Artagnan.

“Be civil, or I shall beat you; for although one may not choose to

proclaim oneself, one insists on respect suitable to one’s rank.”

“You don’t choose to discover yourself, because you are the leader of

an ambuscade,” returned D’Artagnan; “but with regard to myself, who am

traveling quietly with my own servant, I have not the same reasons as

you have to conceal my name.”

“Enough! enough! what is your name?”

“I shall tell you my name in order that you may know where to find me,

my lord, or my prince, as it may suit you best to be called,” said our

Gascon, who did not choose to seem to yield to a threat. “Do you know

Monsieur d’Artagnan?”

“Lieutenant in the king’s musketeers?” said the voice; “you are

Monsieur d’Artagnan?”

“I am.”

“Then you came here to defend him?”

“Him? whom?”

“The man we are seeking.”

“It seems,” said D’Artagnan, “that whilst I thought I was coming to

Noisy I have entered, without suspecting it, into the kingdom of

mysteries.”

“Come,” replied the same lofty tone, “answer! Are you waiting for him

underneath these windows? Did you come to Noisy to defend him?”

“I am waiting for no one,” replied D’Artagnan, who was beginning to be

angry. “I propose to defend no one but myself, and I shall defend

myself vigorously, I give you warning.”

“Very well,” said the voice; “go away from here and leave the place to

us.”

“Go away from here!” said D’Artagnan, whose purposes were in conflict

with that order, “that is not so easy, since I am on the point of

falling, and my horse, too, through fatigue; unless, indeed, you are

disposed to offer me a supper and a bed in the neighborhood.”

“Rascal!”

“Eh! monsieur!” said D’Artagnan, “I beg you will have a care what you

say; for if you utter another word like that, be you marquis, duke,

prince or king, I will thrust it down your throat! do you hear?”

“Well, well,” rejoined the leader, “there’s no doubt ’tis a Gascon who

is speaking, and therefore not the man we are looking for. Our blow has

failed for to-night; let us withdraw. We shall meet again, Master

d’Artagnan,” continued the leader, raising his voice.

“Yes, but never with the same advantages,” said D’Artagnan, in a tone

of raillery; “for when you meet me again you will perhaps be alone and

there will be daylight.”

“Very good, very good,” said the voice. “_En route_, gentlemen.”

And the troop, grumbling angrily, disappeared in the darkness and took

the road to Paris. D’Artagnan and Planchet remained for some moments

still on the defensive; then, as the noise of the horsemen became more

and more distant, they sheathed their swords.

“Thou seest, simpleton,” said D’Artagnan to his servant, “that they

wished no harm to us.”

“But to whom, then?”

“I’faith! I neither know nor care. What I do care for now, is to make

my way into the Jesuits’ convent; so to horse and let us knock at their

door. Happen what will, the devil take them, they can’t eat us.”

And he mounted his horse. Planchet had just done the same when an

unexpected weight fell upon the back of the horse, which sank down.

“Hey! your honor!” cried Planchet, “I’ve a man behind me.”

D’Artagnan turned around and plainly saw two human forms on Planchet’s

horse.

“’Tis then the devil that pursues!” he cried; drawing his sword and

preparing to attack the new foe.

“No, no, dear D’Artagnan,” said the figure, “’tis not the devil, ’tis

Aramis; gallop fast, Planchet, and when you come to the end of the

village turn swiftly to the left.”

And Planchet, with Aramis behind him, set off at full gallop, followed

by D’Artagnan, who began to think he was in the merry maze of some

fantastic dream.