THE THREE MUSKETEERS - Complete Series: The Three Musketeers, Twenty Years After, The Vicomte of Bragelonne, Ten Years Later, Louise da la Valliere & The Man in the Iron Mask. Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
d’Artagnan gave, feature for feature, a description of the Comte de Wardes.
“Is he accompanied?”
“Yes; by a lackey named Lubin.”
“We will keep a sharp lookout for them; and if we lay hands on them his Eminence may be assured they will be reconducted to Paris under a good escort.”
“And by doing so, Monsieur the Governor,” said d’Artagnan, “you will deserve well of the cardinal.”
“Shall you see him on your return, Monsieur Count?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Tell him, I beg you, that I am his humble servant.”
“I will not fail.”
Delighted with this assurance the governor countersigned the passport and delivered it to d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan lost no time in useless compliments. He thanked the governor, bowed, and departed. Once outside, he and Planchet set off as fast as they could; and by making a long detour avoided the wood and reentered the city by another gate.
The vessel was quite ready to sail, and the captain was waiting on the wharf. “Well?” said he, on perceiving d’Artagnan.
“Here is my pass countersigned,” said the latter.
“And that other gentleman?
“He will not go today,” said d’Artagnan; “but here, I’ll pay you for us two.”
“In that case let us go,” said the shipmaster.
“Let us go,” repeated d’Artagnan.
He leaped with Planchet into the boat, and five minutes after they were on board. It was time; for they had scarcely sailed half a league, when d’Artagnan saw a flash and heard a detonation. It was the cannon which announced the closing of the port.
He had now leisure to look to his wound. Fortunately, as d’Artagnan had thought, it was not dangerous. The point of the sword had touched a rib, and glanced along the bone. Still further, his shirt had stuck to the wound, and he had lost only a few drops of blood.
D’Artagnan was worn out with fatigue. A mattress was laid upon the deck for him. He threw himself upon it, and fell asleep.
On the morrow, at break of day, they were still three or four leagues from the coast of England. The breeze had been so light all night, they had made but little progress. At ten o’clock the vessel cast anchor in the harbor of Dover, and at half past ten d’Artagnan placed his foot on English land, crying, “Here I am at last!”
But that was not all; they must get to London. In England the post was well served. D’Artagnan and Planchet took each a post horse, and a postillion rode before them. In a few hours they were in the capital.
D’Artagnan did not know London; he did not know a word of English; but he wrote the name of Buckingham on a piece of paper, and everyone pointed out to him the way to the duke’s hotel.
The duke was at Windsor hunting with the king. D’Artagnan inquired for the confidential valet of the duke, who, having accompanied him in all his voyages, spoke French perfectly well; he told him that he came from Paris on an affair of life and death, and that he must speak with his master instantly.
The confidence with which d’Artagnan spoke convinced Patrick, which was the name of this minister of the minister. He ordered two horses to be saddled, and himself went as guide to the young Guardsman. As for Planchet, he had been lifted from his horse as stiff as a rush; the poor lad’s strength was almost exhausted. d’Artagnan seemed iron.
On their arrival at the castle they learned that Buckingham and the king were hawking in the marshes two or three leagues away. In twenty minutes they were on the spot named. Patrick soon caught the sound of his master’s voice calling his falcon.
“Whom must I announce to my Lord Duke?” asked Patrick.
“The young man who one evening sought a quarrel with him on the Pont Neuf, opposite the Samaritaine.”
“A singular introduction!”
“You will find that it is as good as another.”
Patrick galloped off, reached the duke, and announced to him in the terms directed that a messenger awaited him.
Buckingham at once remembered the circumstance, and suspecting that something was going on in France of which it was necessary he should be informed, he only took the time to inquire where the messenger was, and recognizing from afar the uniform of the Guards, he put his horse into a gallop, and rode straight up to d’Artagnan. Patrick discreetly kept in the background.
“No misfortune has happened to the queen?” cried Buckingham, the instant he came up, throwing all his fear and love into the question.
“I believe not; nevertheless I believe she runs some great peril from which your Grace alone can extricate her.”
“I!” cried Buckingham. “What is it? I should be too happy to be of any service to her. Speak, speak!”
“Take this letter,” said d’Artagnan.
“This letter! From whom comes this letter?”
“From her Majesty, as I think.”
“From her Majesty!” said Buckingham, becoming so pale that d’Artagnan feared he would faint as he broke the seal.
“What is this rent?” said he, showing d’Artagnan a place where it had been pierced through.
“Ah,” said d’Artagnan, “I did not see that; it was the sword of the Comte de Wardes which made that hole, when he gave me a good thrust in the breast.”
“You are wounded?” asked Buckingham, as he opened the letter.
“Oh, nothing but a scratch,” said d’Artagnan.
“Just heaven, what have I read?” cried the duke. “Patrick, remain here, or rather join the king, wherever he may be, and tell his Majesty that I humbly beg him to excuse me, but an affair of the greatest importance recalls me to London. Come, monsieur, come!” and both set off towards the capital at full gallop.
Chapter 21
The Countess de Winter
As they rode along, the duke endeavored to draw from d’Artagnan, not all that had happened, but what d’Artagnan himself knew. By adding all that he heard from the mouth of the young man to his own remembrances, he was enabled to form a pretty exact idea of a position of the seriousness of which, for the rest, the queen’s letter, short but explicit, gave him the clue. But that which astonished him most was that the cardinal, so deeply interested in preventing this young man from setting his foot in England, had not succeeded in arresting him on the road. It was then, upon the manifestation of this astonishment, that d’Artagnan related to him the precaution taken, and how, thanks to the devotion of his three friends, whom he had left scattered and bleeding on the road, he had succeeded in coming off with a single sword thrust, which had pierced the queen’s letter and for which he had repaid M. de Wardes with such terrible coin. While he was listening to this recital, delivered with the greatest simplicity, the duke looked from time to time at the young man with astonishment, as if he could not comprehend how so much prudence, courage, and devotedness could be allied with a countenance which indicated not more than twenty years.
The horses went like the wind, and in a few minutes they were at the gates of London. D’Artagnan imagined that on arriving in town the duke would slacken his pace, but it was not so. He kept on his way at the same rate, heedless about upsetting those whom he met on the road. In fact, in crossing the city two or three accidents of this kind happened; but Buckingham did not even turn his head to see what became