by his enthusiasm, “to the health of the king and the cardinal.”
The officer might have doubted d’Artagnan’s sincerity had the wine been bad; but it was excellent, and he was satisfied.
“But what devil’s own villainy have you done now?” exclaimed Porthos, when the officer had joined his companions, and the four friends found themselves alone. “For shame! Four musketeers allow a miserable creature, who implored their assistance, to be arrested in the midst of them! and, more than that, a gentleman to tipple with a bailiff!”
“Porthos,” said Aramis, “Athos has already told you that you are stupid; and I am of his opinion. D’Artagnan, you are a great man; and when you are in M. de Treville’s situation, I beg your interest to procure me an abbey.”
“Ah! I am quite in the dark!” said Porthos. “Do you also, Athos, approve of what d’Artagnan has done?”
“Most assuredly!” said Athos. “I not only approve of it, but I congratulate him.”
“And now, gentlemen,” said d’Artagnan, not deigning to explain himself to Porthos—“‘All for one—one for all!’ this is our motto, is it not?”
“Nevertheless—” said Porthos.
“Stretch out your hand and swear,” cried Athos and Aramis at the same time.
Conquered by the example, but muttering in a low tone, Porthos stretched out his hand, and the four friends repeated with one voice the formal motto dictated by d’Artagnan—
“‘All for one; and one for all!’”
“That is right. Now, retire to your homes,” said d’Artagnan, as if he had never been accustomed to anything but to command others. “But,” he added, “be watchful; for remember, that from this moment we are at issue with the cardinal!”
CHAPTER 10 A Mousetrap of the Seventeenth Century
The mousetrap is not a modern invention. As soon as societies had, in establishing, themselves, instituted some kind of police, that police in its turn invented mousetraps.
As our readers are perhaps not familiar with the slang of the Rue de Jerusalem, and as it is, although we have been engaged in authorship for fifteen years, the first time that we have used the word in this signification, let us explain to them what a mousetrap is.
When an individual has been arrested, in any house whatever, on suspicion of some crime, his arrest is kept secret; four or five men are placed in ambush in the front room of this house; all who knock are admitted, and also locked in and detained; and, in this manner, at the end of three or four days, they can lay their fingers on all the frequenters of the establishment.
This, reader, is a mousetrap! and into such a one was M. Bonancieux’s apartment transformed. Whoever applied there, was seized and examined by the cardinal’s people. But as there was a private court leading to the first floor, which d’Artagnan occupied, his visitors were all exempt from this detention. The three musketeers, however, were, in fact, the only visitors he had; and each of these had, by this time, commenced a separate search, but had discovered nothing. Athos had even gone so far as to question M. de Treville—a circumstance which, considering his habitual taciturnity, had greatly surprised his captain. But M. de Treville knew nothing about it; excepting that the last time he had seen either the king, the queen, and the cardinal, the cardinal was very morose, the king very uneasy, and the queen’s eyes were red from watching or weeping. But this last circumstance had not attracted much of his notice, as the queen had, since her marriage, both watched and wept frequently.
Furthermore, M. de Treville strongly advised Athos to be active in the king’s service, and more particularly in the queen’s, and requested him to transmit the advice to his companions.
As to d’Artagnan, he did not stir out of his lodgings. He had converted his room into an observatory. From his own windows he saw everybody who came into the trap; and as he had taken up some squares from the floor, and dug up the deafening, so that nothing but a ceiling separated him from the room below, where the examinations were made, he heard all that passed between the inquisitors and the accused. The interrogatories, which were preceded by a strict search, were almost always in these terms—
“Has Madame Bonancieux entrusted you with anything for her husband or any other person?”
“Has M. Bonancieux entrusted you with anything for his wife, or any one else?”
“Has either of them made any verbal communication to you?”
“If they knew anything, they would not put such questions as these,” said d’Artagnan to himself. “But what are they trying to find out? Whether the Duke of Buckingham is in Paris at present; and if he has not had, or is not about to have, an interview with the queen?”
D’Artagnan stopped at this idea, which, after all that he had heard, was not without its probability. In the meantime, however, both the mousetrap and the vigilance of d’Artagnan remained in operation.
Just as it was striking nine on the evening of the day after poor Bonancieux’s arrest, and just as Athos had left d’Artagnan to go to M. de Treville’s, whilst Planchet, who had not made the bed, was about to do so, there was a knocking at the street door, which was immediately opened, and shut again: it was some new prey caught in the trap.
D’Artagnan rushed towards the unpaved part of his room, and laid himself down to listen. In a short time cries were heard, and then groans, which someone endeavoured to stifle.
There was no thought of examination.
“The devil!” said d’Artagnan to himself; “it seems to me to be a woman; they are searching her, and she resists; the wretches are using violence!”
In spite of his prudence, d’Artagnan had some trouble to restrain himself from interfering in the scene which was being enacted underneath.
“I tell you, gentlemen, that I am the mistress of the house; I am Madame Bonancieux. I tell you that I am a servant of the queen’s!” exclaimed the unfortunate woman.
“Madame Bonancieux!” murmured d’Artagnan; “shall I be so fortunate as to have found her whom everybody searches for in vain?”
“You are the very person we were waiting for,” replied the officers.
The voice became more and more stifled. Violent struggling made the wainscot rattle. The victim was offering all the resistance that one woman could offer against four men.
“Forgive me, gentlemen, by—” murmured the voice, which then uttered only inarticulate sounds.
“They are gagging her! They are going to abduct her!” ejaculated d’Artagnan, raising himself up with a bound. “My sword!—Right! it is by my side!—Planchet!”
“Sir.”
“Run, and seek Athos, Porthos, and Aramis; one of the three must be at home; perhaps all. Tell them to arm themselves, and hasten here. Ah, now I remember Athos is with M. de Treville.”
“But where are you going, sir?—Where are you going?”
“I
