Eminence means Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“I mean a young man whom you patronize, Monsieur de Treville.”
“Yes, your Eminence, it is the same.”
“Do you not suspect this young man of having given bad counsel?”
“To Athos, to a man double his age?” interrupted Treville. “No, monseigneur. Besides, d’Artagnan passed the evening with me.”
“Well,” said the cardinal, “everybody seems to have passed the evening with you.”
“Does your Eminence doubt my word?” said Treville, with a brow flushed with anger.
“No, God forbid,” said the cardinal; “only, at what hour was he with you?”
“Oh, as to that I can speak positively, your Eminence; for as he came in I remarked that it was but half past nine by the clock, although I had believed it to be later.”
“At what hour did he leave your hotel?”
“At half past ten—an hour after the event.”
“Well,” replied the cardinal, who could not for an instant suspect the loyalty of Treville, and who felt that the victory was escaping him, “well, but Athos WAS taken in the house in the Rue des Fossoyeurs.”
“Is one friend forbidden to visit another, or a Musketeer of my company to fraternize with a Guard of Dessessart’s company?”
“Yes, when the house where he fraternizes is suspected.”
“That house is suspected, Treville,” said the king; “perhaps you did not know it?”
“Indeed, sire, I did not. The house may be suspected; but I deny that it is so in the part of it inhabited my Monsieur d’Artagnan, for I can affirm, sire, if I can believe what he says, that there does not exist a more devoted servant of your Majesty, or a more profound admirer of Monsieur the Cardinal.”
“Was it not this d’Artagnan who wounded Jussac one day, in that unfortunate encounter which took place near the Convent of the Carmes-Dechausses?” asked the king, looking at the cardinal, who colored with vexation.
“And the next day, Bernajoux. Yes, sire, yes, it is the same; and your Majesty has a good memory.”
“Come, how shall we decide?” said the king.
“That concerns your Majesty more than me,” said the cardinal. “I should affirm the culpability.”
“And I deny it,” said Treville. “But his Majesty has judges, and these judges will decide.”
“That is best,” said the king. “Send the case before the judges; it is their business to judge, and they shall judge.”
“Only,” replied Treville, “it is a sad thing that in the unfortunate times in which we live, the purest life, the most incontestable virtue, cannot exempt a man from infamy and persecution. The army, I will answer for it, will be but little pleased at being exposed to rigorous treatment on account of police affairs.”
The expression was imprudent; but M. de Treville launched it with knowledge of his cause. He was desirous of an explosion, because in that case the mine throws forth fire, and fire enlightens.
“Police affairs!” cried the king, taking up Treville’s words, “police affairs! And what do you know about them, Monsieur? Meddle with your Musketeers, and do not annoy me in this way. It appears, according to your account, that if by mischance a Musketeer is arrested, France is in danger. What a noise about a Musketeer! I would arrest ten of them, VENTREBLEU, a hundred, even, all the company, and I would not allow a whisper.”
“From the moment they are suspected by your Majesty,” said Treville, “the Musketeers are guilty; therefore, you see me prepared to surrender my sword—for after having accused my soldiers, there can be no doubt that Monsieur the Cardinal will end by accusing me. It is best to constitute myself at once a prisoner with Athos, who is already arrested, and with d’Artagnan, who most probably will be.”
“Gascon-headed man, will you have done?” said the king.
“Sire,” replied Treville, without lowering his voice in the least, “either order my Musketeer to be restored to me, or let him be tried.”
“He shall be tried,” said the cardinal.
“Well, so much the better; for in that case I shall demand of his Majesty permission to plead for him.”
The king feared an outbreak.
“If his Eminence,” said he, “did not have personal motives—”
The cardinal saw what the king was about to say and interrupted him:
“Pardon me,” said he; “but the instant your Majesty considers me a prejudiced judge, I withdraw.”
“Come,” said the king, “will you swear, by my father, that Athos was at your residence during the event and that he took no part in it?”
“By your glorious father, and by yourself, whom I love and venerate above all the world, I swear it.”
“Be so kind as to reflect, sire,” said the cardinal. “If we release the prisoner thus, we shall never know the truth.”
“Athos may always be found,” replied Treville, “ready to answer, when it shall please the gownsmen to interrogate him. He will not desert, Monsieur the Cardinal, be assured of that; I will answer for him.”
“No, he will not desert,” said the king; “he can always be found, as Treville says. Besides,” added he, lowering his voice and looking with a suppliant air at the cardinal, “let us give them apparent security; that is policy.”
This policy of Louis XIII made Richelieu smile.
“Order it as you please, sire; you possess the right of pardon.”
“The right of pardoning only applies to the guilty,” said Treville, who was determined to have the last word, “and my Musketeer is innocent. It is not mercy, then, that you are about to accord, sire, it is justice.”
“And he is in the Fort l’Eveque?” said the king.
“Yes, sire, in solitary confinement, in a dungeon, like the lowest criminal.”
“The devil!” murmured the king; “what must be done?”
“Sign an order for his release, and all will be said,” replied the cardinal. “I believe with your Majesty that Monsieur de Treville’s guarantee is more than sufficient.”
Treville bowed very respectfully, with a joy that was not unmixed with fear; he would have preferred an obstinate resistance on the part of the cardinal to this sudden yielding.
The king signed the order for release, and Treville carried it away without delay. As he was about to leave the presence, the cardinal gave
