Essential Novelists - Alexandre Dumas. Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
cavalier addressed some words in English to his sister.
“I speak to you in French,” said d’Artagnan; “be kind enough, then, to reply to me in the same language. You are Madame’s brother, I learn—be it so; but fortunately you are not mine.”
It might be thought that Milady, timid as women are in general, would have interposed in this commencement of mutual provocations in order to prevent the quarrel from going too far; but on the contrary, she threw herself back in her carriage, and called out coolly to the coachman, “Go on—home!”
The pretty SOUBRETTE cast an anxious glance at d’Artagnan, whose good looks seemed to have made an impression on her.
The carriage went on, and left the two men facing each other; no material obstacle separated them.
The cavalier made a movement as if to follow the carriage; but d’Artagnan, whose anger, already excited, was much increased by recognizing in him the Englishman of Amiens who had won his horse and had been very near winning his diamond of Athos, caught at his bridle and stopped him.
“Well, monsieur,” said he, “you appear to be more stupid than I am, for you forget there is a little quarrel to arrange between us two.”
“Ah,” said the Englishman, “is it you, my master? It seems you must always be playing some game or other.”
“Yes; and that reminds me that I have a revenge to take. We will see, my dear monsieur, if you can handle a sword as skillfully as you can a dice box.”
“You see plainly that I have no sword,” said the Englishman. “Do you wish to play the braggart with an unarmed man?”
“I hope you have a sword at home; but at all events, I have two, and if you like, I will throw with you for one of them.”
“Needless,” said the Englishman; “I am well furnished with such playthings.”
“Very well, my worthy gentleman,” replied d’Artagnan, “pick out the longest, and come and show it to me this evening.”
“Where, if you please?”
“Behind the Luxembourg; that’s a charming spot for such amusements as the one I propose to you.”
“That will do; I will be there.”
“Your hour?”
“Six o’clock.”
“A PROPOS, you have probably one or two friends?”
“I have three, who would be honored by joining in the sport with me.”
“Three? Marvelous! That falls out oddly! Three is just my number!”
“Now, then, who are you?” asked the Englishman.
“I am Monsieur d’Artagnan, a Gascon gentleman, serving in the king’s Musketeers. And you?”
“I am Lord de Winter, Baron Sheffield.”
“Well, then, I am your servant, Monsieur Baron,” said d’Artagnan, “though you have names rather difficult to recollect.” And touching his horse with the spur, he cantered back to Paris. As he was accustomed to do in all cases of any consequence, d’Artagnan went straight to the residence of Athos.
He found Athos reclining upon a large sofa, where he was waiting, as he said, for his outfit to come and find him. He related to Athos all that had passed, except the letter to M. de Wardes.
Athos was delighted to find he was going to fight an Englishman. We might say that was his dream.
They immediately sent their lackeys for Porthos and Aramis, and on their arrival made them acquainted with the situation.
Porthos drew his sword from the scabbard, and made passes at the wall, springing back from time to time, and making contortions like a dancer.
Aramis, who was constantly at work at his poem, shut himself up in Athos’s closet, and begged not to be disturbed before the moment of drawing swords.
Athos, by signs, desired Grimaud to bring another bottle of wine.
D’Artagnan employed himself in arranging a little plan, of which we shall hereafter see the execution, and which promised him some agreeable adventure, as might be seen by the smiles which from time to time passed over his countenance, whose thoughtfulness they animated.
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THE HOUR HAVING COME, they went with their four lackeys to a spot behind the Luxembourg given up to the feeding of goats. Athos threw a piece of money to the goatkeeper to withdraw. The lackeys were ordered to act as sentinels.
A silent party soon drew near to the same enclosure, entered, and joined the Musketeers. Then, according to foreign custom, the presentations took place.
The Englishmen were all men of rank; consequently the odd names of their adversaries were for them not only a matter of surprise, but of annoyance.
“But after all,” said Lord de Winter, when the three friends had been named, “we do not know who you are. We cannot fight with such names; they are names of shepherds.”
“Therefore your lordship may suppose they are only assumed names,” said Athos.
“Which only gives us a greater desire to know the real ones,” replied the Englishman.
“You played very willingly with us without knowing our names,” said Athos, “by the same token that you won our horses.”
“That is true, but we then only risked our pistoles; this time we risk our blood. One plays with anybody; but one fights only with equals.”
“And that is but just,” said Athos, and he took aside the one of the four Englishmen with whom he was to fight, and communicated his name in a low voice.
Porthos and Aramis did the same.
“Does that satisfy you?” said Athos to his adversary. “Do you find me of sufficient rank to do me the honor of crossing swords with me?”
“Yes, monsieur,” said the Englishman, bowing.
“Well! now shall I tell you something?” added Athos, coolly.
“What?” replied the Englishman.
“Why, that is that you would have acted much more wisely if you had not required me to make myself known.”
“Why so?”
“Because I am believed to be dead, and have reasons for wishing nobody to know I am living; so that I shall be obliged to kill you to prevent my secret from roaming over the fields.”
The Englishman looked at Athos, believing that he jested, but Athos did not jest the least in the world.
“Gentlemen,” said Athos, addressing at the same time his companions and their adversaries, “are we ready?”
“Yes!” answered the Englishmen and the Frenchmen, as with one voice.
“On guard, then!” cried Athos.
Immediately eight swords glittered in the rays of the setting sun, and the combat began with an animosity very natural between men twice enemies.
Athos fenced with as much calmness and method as if he had been practicing in a fencing school.
Porthos, abated, no doubt, of his too-great confidence by his adventure of Chantilly, played with skill and prudence. Aramis, who had the third