Undoubtedly, this is one of the most romantic and popular books published in the era of the USSR. And it is difficult to imagine a boy of the 1960s / 80s who would not read it avidly. I just have to say that the real times (about 1625), when this "romantic story" happened, were romanticized by Dumas, as they say, in full ... Which is quite understandable: after all, Dumas wrote "The Three Musketeers" as a pronounced "A commercial edition of the novel with a sequel," which was originally published chapter by chapter in the newspaper Le Siècle. And the fee for Dumas in the newspaper was according to the contract line-by-line - even if there was only one word “Yes!” In the line. And the “reading public” was not thirsty at all for a dry historical narration, but for “romanticism” - and Dumas sought to justify all expectations!

Therefore, more than 200 years after the siege of the rebellious fortress of La Rochelle (and Dumas's "source of inspiration" - "Memoirs of Monsieur d'Artagnan, Lieutenant-Commander of the First Company of the Royal Musketeers", a book written by Gacien de Courtille de Sandra - was also written more than 50 years after this event) - Dumas could afford "for the good of the cause" unreservedly and to his heart's content embellish the life of the Louvre and all of Paris of those times. Although, to be honest, I strongly doubt that Dumas clearly imagined this life to himself. So the novel (and I'm not talking about all of its screen adaptations) is as far from the truth from the "historical France of the 20s of the 17th century" as the works of the authors of social realism about the "horrors of tsarism" are from real history.

The intra-political confrontation described by Dumas also does not correspond to the historical truth ... Louis XIII and Anne of Austria in 1625 were 24 years old, and Richelieu was 40 years old - therefore (including and thanks to Dumas) the stereotype of the "dictatorship "Richelieu and the weak-willed king. But it was Richelieu who was an ardent supporter of strong royal power, and Louis rooted out conspiracies against Richelieu by the princes (including his brother, Gaston of Orleans), the queen mother, the high nobility and constantly supported his minister, who acted for the good of the king and France. By the way, in opinion polls, Parisians are most often called "Great French" - Jeanne D "Arc, de Gaulle and Richelieu, and only then Napoleon, considering him" after all a Corsican. "

Well, as for the real life of about 1625, the least evil of that time was dead flies in wine: by the way, it is not for nothing that Dumas have musketeers and in films - they drink bottled wine, not barrel wine. The sewerage system in Paris at that time had a total length of just over 20 km. and for the contents of the "night vases" in the middle of each "big" street, the law provided for a gutter. That (especially even with the abundance of horsemen and carriages) did not at all decorate the streets, which (do not believe the films) by no means all shone with paving stones. Well, as for the premises of the Louvre - so most of them "for hygiene purposes" were covered with a ... somewhere 50 years later, already under Louis XIV. And even then, after Louis XIV "The Sun King" moved the royal residence from the Louvre to Versailles.

So excuse me if I shattered some romantic illusions to someone with the historical truth of life ...

Score: 9

What is the beauty of Dumas: he very rarely idealizes his characters. Often, the protagonists of his novels are people with dubious principles and aspirations: Count of Monte Cristo, Joseph Balsamo, King Henry III ... When Dumas co-authored with Mac, the heroes turn out to be completely alive: with their own merits and demerits. And you love them just like that.

Athos is a depressed alcoholic who at one time hanged his sixteen-year-old wife and loves to kill Englishmen simply because they are Englishmen. Beats the servant.

Porthos is a glutton and a braggart, a dumbass and a braggart. Thinks a little, speaks a lot.

Aramis is a bigot, a hypocrite, a womanizer.

D "Artagnan is a young choleric who uses his friends for his own benefit. Loves Constance - not hesitating to register my lady, periodically fucking her young maid Kat.

Together they are a four of thugs who commit drunken fights and knock down the cardinal's guards in batches just because they are the cardinal's guards.

Let's think: will such a four cause sympathy in us? The drunkard, the idiot, the womanizer and the cynic who shoot at the police and interfere in world politics of a rather intelligent and active prime minister? Will call. Only in one case - if they are all charming to hell.

Dumas and Macket did their best. With Athos, you can taste the wine he drank. Together with Porthos, you boil and rush headlong at innocent people (well, they looked wrong). Together with Aramis you have fun in bed with a cute seamstress. Together with d "Artagnan, you build intrigues and plans ... And most importantly, you believe in their absolute correctness. Then, of course, when you close the book, understanding puts everything in its place. But then you open it again - and, having sipped wine from the bottle, you shout : "Death to the cardinal's guards!"

Score: 10

The novel is the king of the genre. Ageless book, in relation to which the expression "read to the holes" - literal, and not just a catchphrase. Childhood friend, youth friend - friend for life. A work that has been read, is being read and will be read on all continents at all times and in all languages. Reference.

What a delightful syllable of the author, what a brilliant literature! The lucky man, who has not yet read the novel, needs only to open the contents to be amazed at the titles of the chapters alone: ​​"The Mousetrap in the Seventeenth Century", "Anjou Wine", "On the Benefits of Chimneys", "All Cats Are Gray at Night."

The book is simply torn apart, dissolved into quotes:

“Athos was an optimist when it came to things and a pessimist when it came to people”;

“The future is never presented in such a rosy light as in those moments when you look at it through a glass of Chambertin”;

"The heart of the best of women is ruthless to the suffering of a rival";

"A secret can be given up by a nobleman, but a lackey will almost always sell it";

“Try not to keep me waiting. At a quarter past twelve, I'll cut off your ears on the go. “Excellent, I'll be there at ten to twelve!”;

“I’m very sorry, sir, but I arrived first and will not pass second. "I am very sorry, sir, but I arrived second, and I will pass first";

“I am fighting simply because I am fighting”;

"You did what you had to do, d" Artagnan, but maybe you made a mistake ";

and of course, the famous - "My friend, for Athos this is too much, for the Comte de La Fer - too little."

A fascinating plot, which almost immediately became a classic and subsequently gave rise to many imitations, borrowings and analogies. It still does not seem in any way implausible, outdated or naive. Insanely brave adventures like breakfast on the Bastion of Saint-Gervais, the intrigues of the mighty of this world, love, the cold fury of my lady, the clink of swords and the scent of Burgundy, duels, lackeys in livery and the sound of pistols clinking in their wallet make up such a burning, exciting, exciting series of that the reader is physically unable to stop reading.

And the magnificent, memorable characters are finally a creation where no one has the right to call someone's image cardboard. Adventurer and warm heart d "Artagnan, Aramis - a poet and cunning, generous and honest Porthos and melancholic Athos - a nobleman in the best sense of the word, whose essence is honor and nobility. Milady Winter, Lady Claric, Charlotte Buxton, Countess de La Fere "My God, look for such a villain. In this competition, she would have given odds to Marie de Medici herself. The character of the great Armand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal Richelieu, turned out to be more than reliable. This is a man about whom Athos later said:" a formidable minister, so terrible for his master, so hated by him, he went down to the grave and took with him the king, whom he did not want to leave on earth without himself, out of fear, no doubt, that he would not destroy the building he had erected. ”But the main characters - look at the minor ones. The Duke of Buckingham, who is discharged so that you immediately understand - yes, he is an Englishman, damn it. A dodger and a devoted servant of Planchet. A haberdasher and a real bourgeois - a scoundrel Bonacieux. Servant de Treville. And gloomy Grimaud, who so eloquently knows how to remain silent.

This novel is included in the list “the one book that I am allowed to take to a desert island” (the scoffers with a grin thought about the guide to edible plants and the first aid textbook, but I do not refuse my words).

One for all and all for one, gentlemen!

Score: 10

"Three Musketeers" refers to things that must be re-read several times and always at different ages. Each new reading opens up new sides of this novel, and each time the events taking place in it and the actions of the heroes are perceived differently. After children's delight from the coolness of the main characters and their adventures, after an exciting tracking of intrigues and plot twists in your youth, you begin to get accustomed to those who are considered almost the standard of nobility - our Gascon and his three friends. And then you realize that not everything is so simple.

I will not write about the progressive role of Cardinal Richelieu in the unification of France and the actual work of the Musketeers for the enemies of this union, many have trampled on this topic, which, however, does not make their arguments less truthful. You can just take a closer look at the personal lives of the heroes, and be surprised to find that they often commit acts, to put it mildly, completely unseemly, and not only from our point of view, but also from the point of view of their contemporaries.

d "Artagnan. Having settled in the house of Bonacieux, he is not going to pay him, considering that a despicable city dweller should be happy in general, having received such a noble guest.

He, being in the service of the French king, agrees to act as a courier on a very suspicious assignment to his main enemy. To be fair, I will say that the whole intrigue on the part of the cardinal is not of a state, but of a personal nature, but d "Artagnan does not know about it.

Inflamed with passion for my lady, and wishing to quickly achieve his goal, he seduces and uses her maid Katie, completely oblivious to her feelings. This is by the way, with his supposed love for Constance.

Well, the very penetration to Milady does not climb into any gate at all, he gets there by deception, under the guise of Count de Varda. Moreover, he himself understands all the unseemly of his act, when the count's son reproaches him for this, in his defense he can only mutter that he was supposed to be young.

Athos. He loves his wife madly. But when he saw the mark on her shoulder while hunting, he actually kills her, as I understand she miraculously survived. Without giving her any excuses or explaining anything. What if it's a mistake? And if she was condemned because of the dirty intrigues of the feudal lord who harassed her? And if there was no process at all, and her enemies branded her? In fact, it was so, the Lille executioner branded her, let's say, in private. It is easy for us who know about her crimes to believe his words, but Athos does not know about it.

Porthos. It's all fun here. He sees the only way to succeed in life - to marry a wealthy widow much older than himself. Now they are called gigolos or gigolos and are condemned in decent society. But more than that, he begins to prepare for marriage with her with a living husband, impatiently awaiting his death.

Aramis in this novel is kept in the background, and we know little about his personal life. His character will be revealed in the sequels.

And now it only remains to be surprised at the talent of Dumas, who, on such unseemly material, created a masterpiece, which will soon be read for two centuries.

10 of course.

Score: 10

I have a lot of memories associated with this book, how times change, now it is in every bookstore and in several editions at once, or you don't have to go to the store, read it on the Internet. And I remember 1978, I raved about this book, how much I wanted to read it, and in the library there was an entry for it for almost a year in advance, but I waited several months, someone missed the line. I remember how my hands trembled when the librarian held it out to me, for me it was a treasure, because I knew that on her pages the clink of swords, dizzying adventures, brave musketeers and their insidious enemies, the greatness of the French royal court, strong male friendship and passionate love. Now this book has been read by me several times, but on my bookshelves it is in several different editions and I no, no, yes I will take it and look through it.

Dumas is the Great writer, "The Three Musketeers" is his great creation, I think that in a hundred and two hundred years, the same guys as I was will be reading this novel.

Score: 10

So I decided to write my first review and not in vain chose the Three Musketeers. In my early school years, I did not like to read, but once I don’t remember why, I decided to take on this work. And then something happened, from that moment to this day I adore reading, but such a miracle was performed by this book. Since then, I have read The Three Musketeers several times and will continue to read it when nostalgia takes its toll. I can't say anything bad about this work, and the language does not turn, only positive emotions, because it contains everything, good and evil, loyalty and betrayal, friendship and enmity, life and death, love and hate. Greatest work of adventure in the genre.

Score: 10

The King's Musketeers are like the Life Guards of His Imperial Majesty. The elite of the army. But the attraction of the book - for eternal times - is determined, of course, not by this.

Firstly, it is an excellent example - one might say, the standard - of disinterested male friendship, its literary ideal, so to speak. "...One for all and all for one...". It's fiercely romantic. Nobody has yet "surpassed", so to speak.

Secondly, it is an outstanding example of the implementation of a “man of action”. To break off at the first word is where the hell, without a clear plan, without guarantees, on sheer enthusiasm, but with SUCH energy ... I can't help but like it. This is loved by everyone, from unassuming teenagers to business sharks.

Thirdly - "hussar courtesy and ardor, hussar charm" - in matters of the heart, how could it be without this. Actually, this one, in such and such a performance, as they say - with interest ...

Well, and - of course - bright, colorful types of heroes, this is generally beyond praise.

In short, dear potential reader, if you haven't joined yet - you don't need to think! Must - READ

Score: 9

Recently, I began to rethink many of the books that I read in childhood and adolescence, and the Three Musketeers did not escape a similar fate.

I will not talk about the historical accuracy, since this is still an adventure novel, let's try to think about what is described in the book:

There is a kind of bad cardinal

There is a kind of good, albeit gullible king

There is a kind of good queen

The good queen and king are helped by good musketeers, who in every way try to frustrate the plans of the bad cardinal.

And now, close to reality:

A gullible king is an extremely bad ruler for the state, there is simply nowhere worse.

A good queen gives the duke of the HOSTELY (in any case, EXACTLY NOT FRIENDLY) state her pendants at that time, which implies that they were not just familiar with the duke ...

So it turns out that the book is about 4 over-aged fools (this is me about the musketeers, who, by the way, judging by the description, if you look closely at the details, also do not cause sympathy) without a drop of brains who in every way try to interfere and interfere with the ONLY person who is trying to save the country from disaster, yes yes I am about Richelieu.

These are the things comrades ...

Rating: no

One wants to cry not from the book but from the comments on this masterpiece of world literature. Until 1990, Alexander Dumas was the first of the first writers in the USSR, but then there were changes in the moral, as well as sexual, and as a result of the entire collapse of the main thing, namely the complete breakdown of the spiritual orientation of the Russian. It’s just crazy to see that there are no comments on this book. In this wonderful book, the main central point is the slogan of the Musketeers - ONE FOR ALL, AND ALL FOR ONE. Now I understand that the Russian person no longer needs her. Everyone is for himself, and everyone is against everyone. It's not offensive, but very, very scary.

Score: 10

Yes, something, but Dumas was not deprived of his fantasy from God. Every now and then in the novel there are brilliant notions (even, one might say, "gadgets") that pretty much decorate the plot, but do not fit into the logic of the narrative. “He is Dumas; he can. " If the cardinal and the duke did not compete over the lady, but, as they should, were engaged in politics ... not having time to move away from the wounds inflicted on him by Rochefort ... If all four Musketeers did not love their queen so much, and did not forgive her absurd disposition, as well as the tendency to flirt with just anyone (but after all, she is a _Queen_, par bleu! .. Again- still, she can! ..) If the Comte de la Fere had not been so drunk on his wedding night, and managed to feel under his wife's shirt _that _the_ most fatal brand ...

Then the book, probably, would have won much more in the coherence of the plot and believability. But ... it would be a completely different book. And it is not known whether generations of readers would love her or not. (Well, the modern adventure / fantasy fan will say the same about Moffat and Doctor Who).

Unfortunately, volumes two and three were much worse. The Viscount is rarely republished at all ... and, in my opinion, deservedly so. There is no more dashing musketeer enthusiasm, but there are sentiments * and of the most bad kind - courageous Athos suffers, having lost his son, and does not even try to somehow hide it from friends, almost sobs loudly; in the same way, Mousqueton reacts to the loss of a beloved master. Ie, of course, they could feel it all - but bare their feelings in front of others? .. No, no. Our heroes have aged, what else can you say ... *

But the sequels are sequels, and The Three Musketeers will remain a book for all time. Even if it is a "pop" adventure novel. Let it be shallow, oversaturated with "action" ... Despite everything, the novel is _good_ and this is a fact.

Score: 8

One of those mysterious books that for some reason I could not read the first time. What is strange - she is so wonderful! The order and manners were unusual even for the author's contemporaries, not so much for me, so sometimes I did not know how to evaluate certain actions. But in general, I liked everything very much.

D "Artagnan companions live as they want, especially not striving for anything, they treat money easily and carefully - their friends. By the way, they are usually courteous to enemies, especially after their victory over them =) With one exception, but my lady is a woman , so it doesn’t count. ”And involuntarily you begin to think, why not live like that yourself?

Definitely a wonderful book. Especially easy and pleasant style of presentation.

Score: 10

So much has been written about this novel that adding something is just repeating someone's words. To scold him - the hand does not rise, because it is indeed a masterpiece of world literature, which has long and firmly taken its place.

Spoiler (plot disclosure) (click on it to see)

to write bad words will simply be noted, but I'm like that - against everyone. Glory to Herostratus.

But then I found one topic about which, if they wrote, it was only in passing. We all know the heroes of the book, their names have already become common nouns. But there are still those about which little is mentioned, but they go through and live a literary life with the main characters and sometimes the fate of the famous four depends on their actions. You guessed it. Yes, I pay tribute to the memory of the servants: Planchet, Grimaud, Bazin, and Mousqueton. Those who are invisible, little known and unremarkable, but who help, and sometimes save the main characters. Those who quietly fulfill their duties, and sometimes share the fate of their masters. And sometimes it is a shame that while watching the next film adaptation, they are simply thrown out of the scripts, depleting the plot of the book and depriving the audience of many scenes, sometimes comical, and sometimes tragic, associated with these heroes.

Score: 10

"One for all and all for one - this is from now on our motto ..."

I have long dreamed of meeting this undoubtedly great French writer, and, finally, the chance fell out. After a thorough search of my grandmother's "archives", I found what I was looking for. To my deep surprise, I read The Three Musketeers in 3 days, which merged in an instant. So, let's begin.

The first thing that immediately catches your eye is, of course, the historical France of the 17th century. Periodic duels, endless gatherings in taverns, constant lack of money, life and customs of Parisians, vivid descriptions of the heroes themselves, court intrigues, big politics and pure love - all this French flavor presents us with a vivid and distinct picture of what is happening. Meanwhile, France is divided into two camps: in one ruled by the king and dominated by the musketeers, and in the other, Cardinal Richelieu and his guards rule. This opposition occupies one of the main places in the novel and, undoubtedly, retains the intrigue until its end.

Secondly, the heroes. Four friends, four loyal comrades - Athos, Porthos, Aramis and, of course, d "Artagnan. Each has its own principles, each has its own unique character. D'Artagnan is an intelligent, brave, cunning and irresistible hero who came from Gascony to Paris in search for fame and a brilliant career. He is ready to challenge the whole world and punish anyone who offends him. Porthos appears before us as a narrow-minded and boastful man, but nevertheless enjoying great success with women. Aramis is courageous, noble, but at the same time slightly -a bit corny and even hypocritical. Athos, who puts honor above everything else, "beautiful in body and soul," but reserved and taciturn. They complement each other perfectly and personify indestructible camaraderie.

Third, the plot. Not only is the novel written in an easy and understandable language, but it also constantly keeps the reader in suspense. It would seem a standard beginning: a young ambitious man comes to a large city to make a career, in this case a musketeer. He finds devoted friends and gradually, in small steps, goes to achieve his goal. But the hallmark of this novel is the abundance of events. D'Artagnan and his friends will take part in the investigation, "walk" to England for a "gift" to the queen, take part in the siege of the fortress, as well as in the defense of the bastion, and boast of love affairs. By the way, the romantic side is another plus of the novel. The abundance of feelings that permeate the novel, the abundance of the characters' thoughts make the writer a master of his craft.

Ridan, May 3, 2019

The main characters of the book, if you think about it, are very dishonest people. They constantly arrange drunken fights, kill people on far-fetched pretexts, beat up servants (who, by the way, regularly risk their lives for them). But after all, Dumas himself says that you cannot judge the heroes of historical works by modern moral standards. They are what they are, the best representatives of the old nobility, still strong but already outdated. Arrogantly proud, desperately brave, ruthless in the satisfaction of their momentary whims.

The book is about the era, and even if Dumas lied pretty much in the historical facts, he conveyed the spirit of the time superbly. A book about friendship, for the sake of which one gets involved in the most insane alterations without asking why it is needed. Adventure book.

It is imperative to read, at least to familiarize yourself with the classics of world literature. The main thing is not to drop the modern ideas about good and evil for a long time, and you will feel the taste of Burgundy (by the way, the cheapest wine, it was taken to be cheap and quickly thrown around), hear the neighing of horses and feel the hilt of the sword in your hand.

Score: 10

Based on the eponymous trilogy by Alexandre Dumas and adaptations

Trilogy "The Three Musketeers" - Dumas

Les Trois Mousquetaires, The Three Musketeers

Cycle of books; 1844-1847

The cycle includes books

Best post

Today is the defender of the fatherland day and I will take my cotton patriotic photo album from the dusty shelf.
This is how I looked in the fall of 1988, before being drafted into the slender ranks of the Soviet Army.

We, recruits, were invited to the military registration and enlistment office and instructed on how to appear at the conscription point. In particular, you need to be short, but not bald. Those who came bald like a billiard ball were threatened with a submarine fleet and three-year service. As a result, inspired by the instructions received, we, friends, got together and cut each other's hair, saving on the hairdresser's. And the funds thus freed were spent on beer.


Here's what happened and the result. By the way, behind my back you can observe the light switch I designed. He has a designer green backlight, by means of an indicator drawn from the factory and double switching on of one lamp - at full incandescence and at half strength, by means of a D226 diode and a smoothing capacitor.

And this is already in the army, he served more than a year. I am in the middle, left and right - my army colleagues. One from Siberia, the other from Western Ukraine.

As you can see, I was no stranger to culture either - when I was fired, I even went to the Oktyabrsky KZ. But I don’t remember at all what. The photo was taken on color slide film, which was a fucking luxury in those days.

The tendency to stay away from the authorities and closer to the place where food was prepared, or better - to lead this process, appeared in me back in those years. In this case, we secretly use a blowtorch with a special nozzle to cook a chicken stolen from the next part. A Ukrainian stole it, no one could have done it better than him - he had a lot of practice in the village of folding the heads of chickens. The recipe and cooking were already behind me. As I remember now, it was something like a chakhokhbili.

I also visited during the years of service in Boryspil and Fergana, but I have no scanned photos on my computer.

All men and women who wore and are wearing epaulettes for the glory of our Motherland - on the Day of the Defender of the Fatherland, hurray!

# it_was_so_long_that_and_remember_not_ sinful #congratulations_fanfix

Sometimes, when you open a book, you hope to see one thing, but as a result you find much more. You understand how much depth, how many details are present in the work, what a variety of characters and emotions. The novel by Alexander Dumas "The Three Musketeers" is considered a classic of historical and adventure literature, he was filmed a large number of times. And although it is recommended to read to schoolchildren, an adult will be able to see much more in it. Moreover, emotions will not always be positive, because the writer speaks not only of virtues, but also of vices. Of course, much can be justified by the fact that in the described time this was the way of life of the whole society. This book is about courage and cowardice, it is about love and loyalty and at the same time about hatred and betrayal. There is a place for both romance and cold calculation.

The book tells the fascinating story of the adventures of D'Artagnan and three of his Musketeer friends. The main character is a Gascon of noble origin, who decides to leave his home and go to the capital to become a musketeer. He is full of hope, but on the way he gets into a fight, and his letter of introduction is stolen. Upon arrival in the capital, d'Artagnan learns that he cannot be immediately accepted as a musketeer, and then insults three musketeer friends who challenge him to a duel. By the will of fate, they subsequently become friends, and then their unforgettable adventures begin, full of dangers, intrigue, drinking, communication with beautiful women and dignitaries. As a result, will d'Artagnan be able to fulfill his dream?

On our site you can download the book "The Three Musketeers" by Alexander Dumas for free and without registration in epub, fb2 format, read the book online or buy a book in the online store.

Before you is the most famous story of all time - the adventure novel by Alexander Dumas, father, "The Three Musketeers" about the era of the reign of Louis XIII. This immortal work was so fond of readers all over the world that it was filmed more than a hundred times! Young ardent Gascon d'Artagnan and his faithful friends-musketeers Athos, Porthos and Aramis became a symbol of courage, loyalty and friendship, and their motto "One for all, and all for one" - became a catch phrase. Before you is an absolutely unique edition containing one of the first translations of the novel, made before the revolution. The book contains an abbreviated version of the work - I part of the adventures of four friends. Thanks to this rare pre-revolutionary translation, the book quickly gained popularity among the Russian-speaking reader. The author of the translation is unknown, but the artistic merit of his text is undeniable: the author's style, humor and brevity inherent in the pen of A. Dumas are excellently conveyed by the translator.

PART ONE

I. Three gifts from d'Artagnan's father

On the first Monday in April 1625, Myung was in the same turmoil as Rochelle during the Huguenot siege. Many citizens, at the sight of women running towards Bolshaya Street and children shouting at the thresholds of the doors, hurried to put on their armor and, armed with guns and reeds, went to the Hotel Franck-Meunier, in front of which a noisy and curious crowd was crowded, growing every minute.

In those days, such panic fears were frequent, and a rare day passed without this or that city not adding some kind of incident of this kind to its archives: the nobles fought among themselves, the king waged a war with the cardinal, the Spaniards waged a war with the king ... In addition to these wars, either secretly or openly, thieves, beggars, Huguenots, wolves and lackeys waged war on everyone. Citizens always armed themselves against thieves, wolves, lackeys, often against nobles and Huguenots, sometimes against the king, but never against the Spaniards.

Given this state of affairs, it is natural that on the aforementioned Monday in April 1625, the citizens, hearing the noise and not seeing either the red or yellow banner or the livery of the Duke of Richelieu, rushed in the direction where the Franck-Meunier hotel was located.

Arriving there, everyone could find out the reason for this excitement.

A quarter of an hour before, a young man on a dun horse drove into Myung through the Beauhansi outpost. Let's describe the appearance of his horse. Imagine Don Quixote, 18 years old, unarmed, without chain mail and without armor, in a woolen jacket, whose blue color took on an indefinite shade of greenish blue. The face is long and dark, with prominent cheekbones, a sign of deceit; the jaw muscles, extremely developed, are an undoubted sign of Gascon even without a beret, and our young man was wearing a beret decorated with a feather; eyes are big and smart; the nose is crooked, thin and beautiful; height is too large for a young man and too small for an adult; an unaccustomed eye would have mistaken him for the traveling son of the Farmer, if not for the long sword, suspended from a leather sling, striking its owner in the calf when he walked, and in the bristly fur of his horse when he rode.

The young man's horse was so remarkable that it attracted general attention: it was a Bearnais horse, 12 or 14 years old, yellow fur, without a tail, and with pods on the legs; on the way, she lowered her head below the knees, which made the use of the abdominal belt useless; but she still did eight miles a day.

Unfortunately, the strange color of her fur and her not beautiful gait hid her good qualities so much that in those days, when everyone was experts in horses, her appearance in Myung made an unpleasant impression, which was also reflected on the rider.

This impression was all the more painful for d'Artagnan (that was the name of the new Don Quixote) because he himself understood this, although he was a good rider; but such a horse made him funny, about which he sighed deeply, accepting this gift from his father. He knew that such an animal was worth at least 20 livres; while the words accompanying the gift were invaluable: “My son,” said the Gascon nobleman in that pure common Béarn dialect, which Henry IV could never get out of the habit, “my son, this horse was born in your father’s house, thirteen years ago , and was in it during all this time - this alone should make you love her. Never sell it, let it die peacefully in old age; and if you will be with her on a campaign, then take care of her as an old servant. At court, continued d'Artagnan-father, - if you ever deserve to be there - an honor to which, however, your ancient nobility entitles you - maintain with dignity your noble name, since it was supported by our ancestors in continuation of more than five hundred years. Take nothing from anyone but the cardinal and the king. Remember that at present the nobleman makes his way only with courage. The cowardly one often loses from himself the chance that presents him with happiness. You are young and must be brave for two reasons: firstly, because you are Gascon, and secondly, because you are my son. Do not be afraid of dangers and seek adventure. I taught you how to use a sword; your leg is strong as iron, your hand is as steel, fight on every occasion; fight all the more, because duels are prohibited, which means that you need double courage to fight. I can give you, my son, only 15 crowns, my horse and the advice that you have listened to. The mother will add to this the recipe for a balm she received from a gypsy woman, which contains a wonderful property to heal any wound except for the heart. Benefit from everything and live happily and long-term. It remains for me to add one more thing: to present you as an example not me - because I have never been at the Court and participated only in the war for religion as a volunteer - but de Treville, who was once my neighbor: he, as a child, had the honor play with King Louis XIII, God bless him! Sometimes their games took the form of battles, and in these battles the king did not always prevail. The defeats he suffered aroused in him respect and friendship for de Treville. Subsequently, de Treville fought with others during his first trip to Paris five times, from the death of the late king to the young age, not counting wars and sieges, seven times, and from the time of this coming of age until now, maybe a hundred times, despite decrees, orders and arrests, he, the captain of the Musketeers, that is, the head of the legion of the Caesars, whom the king cherishes and whom the cardinal fears, and as you know, there are not many things that he fears. Moreover, de Treville receives ten thousand crowns a year; therefore, he lives like a nobleman. He started just like you; come to him with this letter and imitate him in everything in order to achieve what he has achieved. "

Then d'Artagnan-father put his own sword on his son, gently kissed him on both cheeks and gave him his blessing.

Leaving his father's room, the young man went to his mother, who was waiting for him with a famous recipe, which, judging by the advice he had received from his father, was to be used quite often. Here parting was longer and more tender than with his father, not because d'Artagnan did not love his son, his only descendant, but d'Artagnan was a man and considered it unworthy of a man to indulge in the movement of the heart, while Madame d'Artagnan was a woman and moreover, the mother.

She cried with profuse tears, and let's say in praise of D'Artagnan's son that with all his efforts to remain firm, as a future musketeer should, nature prevailed - he could not refrain from crying.

On the same day the young man set out on a journey, supplied with three gifts from his father, which consisted, as we have already said, of fifteen crowns, a horse, and a letter to de Treville; of course, advice was not counted.

With such parting words, d'Artagnan became a morally and physically correct snapshot of the hero of Cervantes, with whom we so successfully compared him when, according to the duty of a historian, we had to draw his portrait. Don Quixote took windmills for giants and rams for troops; d'Artagnan took every smile an insult and every look a challenge. From this it happened that his fists were constantly clenched from Tarbes to Myung, and that in both places he put his hand on the hilt of the sword ten times a day; however, neither the fist nor the sword were ever used in business. Not that the sight of the unfortunate yellow horse did not arouse smiles on the faces of those passing by; but like a long sword strummed over a horse, and a pair of ferocious eyes flashed over this sword, the passers-by restrained their gaiety, or, if gaiety prevailed over prudence, then they tried to laugh, at least, with only one side of their face like antique masks. So, d'Artagnan remained dignified, and his irritability was not touched to the unfortunate city of Myung.

But there, when he dismounted at the gate of Franck-Meunier and no one came out to receive a horse from him, d'Artagnan noticed at the half-open window of the lower floor a nobleman, tall and haughty, although with a slightly frowned face, talking to two persons, who seemed to listen to him with respect. D'Artanyan, out of habit, believed that he was the subject of the conversation and began to listen. This time he was only half wrong: it was not about him, but about his horse. It seemed that the nobleman calculated all her qualities to his listeners and, as a storyteller, inspired the listeners with respect; they laughed every minute. But a half-smile was enough to awaken the irritability of the young man; it is understandable what impression this noisy gaiety made on him.

D'Artanyan began to look at the appearance of the impudent mocker with a proud glance. He was a man in his 40s or 45s, with black, penetrating eyes, pale, with a sharply outlined nose and a beautifully trimmed black mustache; he was wearing a camisole and purple trousers, which, although new, seemed crumpled, as if they had been in a suitcase for a long time.

D'Artagnan made all these remarks with the quickness of the cleverest observer, and probably with an instinctive foreboding that this stranger would have a great influence on his future.

But just as at the very time when d'Artagnan was examining the nobleman in a purple jacket, the latter made one of the most learned and profound remarks about the dignity of his Béarn horse, both listeners burst out laughing, and even he himself, contrary to his custom, smiled slightly ... At the same time, d'Artanyan no longer doubted that he was offended. Convinced of offense, he pulled his beret over his eyes and, imitating the court manners that he had noticed in the Gascony among the traveling nobles, approached, putting one hand on the hilt of the sword, the other on his thigh. Unfortunately, as he approached, his anger blinded him more and more, and instead of the full dignity and haughty speech he had prepared for the challenge, he spoke only of a rude personality, accompanying her with a frantic movement.

“Hey, what are you hiding behind the shutter,” he exclaimed. - Tell me why you are laughing, and we will laugh together.

The nobleman slowly turned his eyes from the horse to the rider, as if he did not immediately realize that these strange reproaches were referring to him; when there was no doubt about that, his brows frowned slightly, and after a rather long silence, he answered d'Artagnan with indescribable irony and insolence.

“I’m not talking to you, sir.

“But I'm talking to you,” exclaimed the young man, exasperated to the extreme by this mixture of insolence and good manners, decency and contempt.

The stranger looked at him again with a slight smile, moved away from the window, slowly left the hotel and stood two paces from d'Artagnan, opposite his horse.

His calm posture and mocking look doubled the gaiety of his interlocutors who remained at the window. D'Artanyan, seeing him next to him, drew his sword one foot from its scabbard.

- This horse is a dunny, or, better to say, it was like that in his youth, the stranger continued, addressing his listeners who were at the window, and apparently not noticing D'Artagnan's irritation, - this color is known in botany, but before still rarely seen between horses.

“He who does not dare laugh at the rider laughs at the horse,” said de Treville's imitator furiously.

- I don't laugh often, the stranger objected, - you can judge that by the expression on my face; but I want to keep to myself the right to laugh whenever I please.

- And I, said d'Artagnan, - I don’t want to laugh when I don’t like it.

- Indeed? continued the stranger very calmly. - This is completely fair. And turning on his heels, he intended to return to the hotel, through the large gate, at which D'Artagnan had seen a saddled horse.

But the character of d'Artagnan was not such that he could let go of a man who insolently ridiculed him. He completely drew his sword from its scabbard and set off after him, shouting:

- Go back, go back, Mr. Mockery, or I will kill you from behind.

- Kill me! said the stranger, turning on his heels and looking at the young man with surprise and contempt. - What's the matter with you, my dear, you are out of your mind!

As soon as he finished speaking, d'Artagnan sent such a blow with the edge of his sword at him that probably his joke would have been the last, if he had not had time to quickly jump back. The stranger, seeing then that things were going in earnest, took out his sword, bowed to his adversary, and importantly took a defensive position. But at the same time, two of his servants, accompanied by the innkeeper, attacked D'Artagnan with sticks, shovels and tongs. This produced a quick and complete revolution in the struggle.

Meanwhile, d'Artagnan turned back to fend off a hail of blows, his opponent calmly put his sword in and with his usual dispassion from the character became a spectator, but grumbled to himself.

“Damn the Gascons! Put him on his orange horse and let him go!

- But first I will kill you, coward! shouted d'Artagnan, repelling, as much as he could, the blows falling on him, and not retreating a single step from his three enemies.

- He's also showing off! muttered the nobleman. “These Gascons are incorrigible. Continue if he absolutely wants to. When he gets tired, he will say - enough.

But the stranger did not know what kind of stubborn man he was dealing with: d'Artagnan was not the kind of person to beg for mercy. The battle continued for a few more seconds; at last d'Artagnan, exhausted, let go of the sword, which had been broken in two by a blow of a stick. At the same time, another blow to the forehead knocked him down, bloodied and almost unconscious.

At that very moment, from all sides, they ran to the place of the spectacle. The owner, fearing trouble, took the wounded man, with the help of his servants, to the kitchen, where help was served to him.

As for the nobleman, he returned to his former place at the window and looked impatiently at the crowd, whose presence seemed to be unpleasant to him.

- Well, what is the health of this madman? he said, turning around at the noise of the opening door, and addressing the owner, who had come to inquire about his health.

- Your Excellency is not injured? asked the owner.

“No, completely unharmed, my dear host. I ask you, in what condition is the young man?

“He’s better,” answered the owner, “he’s fainted.

- Indeed? said the nobleman.

- But before fainting, he, having gathered his last strength, called you and challenged you to battle.

- This amusement must be the devil himself, said the stranger.

- Oh no, your excellency, he does not look like a devil, said the owner with a contemptuous grimace: - during a faint, we searched him; he has only one shirt in his bundle, and in his purse there are only 12 crowns, and, despite the fact that he lost his feelings, he said that if it happened in Paris, you would have to repent now, while repenting here, but only later.

“In that case, it must be some kind of disguised prince of blood,” the stranger said coolly.

- I tell you this, sir, so that you are careful, said the owner.

- He did not call anyone by name in his anger?

- Oh, yes, he hit his pocket and said: we'll see what my insulted patron de Treville will say about this.

- De Treville? said the stranger, looking more attentive. - Did he hit the pocket when he spoke of de Treville? Listen, master, while this young man was fainting, you must have examined his pocket as well. What was in it?

“A letter addressed to de Treville, Captain of the Musketeers.

- Indeed?

“Exactly so, Your Excellency.

The owner, not gifted with great perspicacity, did not notice what expression his words were given to the face of the stranger, who moved away from the window and frowned with concern.

“Damn it,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “has de Treville sent me this Gascon? He is very young. But the blow of the sword, no matter who it was, is still a blow, and the child is less feared than anyone else; sometimes the weakest obstacle is enough to thwart an important undertaking.

And the stranger went into thought for a few minutes.

“Listen, master, spare me this madman: in all conscience, I cannot kill him, and yet,” he added with an expression of cold threat, “he’s bothering me. Where is he?

In my wife's room, on the first floor, they are bandaging him.

- His clothes and a bag with him? Did he take off his jacket?

- On the contrary, all these things are in the kitchen. But since this madman bothers you ...

- Without a doubt. He makes a scandal in your hotel, and this cannot be liked by decent people. Go upstairs, settle my score and warn my man.

- How! is the gentleman leaving already?

- Of course, when I have already ordered to saddle my horse. Wasn't my order carried out?

“Oh, yes, Your Excellency, perhaps you saw that your horse at the great gate is ready for departure.

“Okay, so do as I told you.

- "Hm ... thought the owner, is he really afraid of this boy."

But the stranger's commanding gaze stopped him. He bowed deeply and left.

- It is not necessary that this amusement see my lady, the stranger continued: - she must come soon, and then she was already late. Better to go meet her. If only I could find out the content of this letter to de Treville!

And the stranger, muttering to himself, went to the kitchen. Meanwhile, the owner, not doubting that the presence of the young man prevented the stranger from staying in the hotel, returned to his wife's room and found D'Artagnan already regained his senses.

Trying to convince him that he could cause him trouble for a quarrel with a nobleman - in the master's opinion, the stranger was certainly a nobleman - he persuaded him, despite his weakness, to get up and continue on his way. D'Artanyan, barely regaining his senses, without a jacket, with a bandaged head, got up and, urged by the owner, began to go downstairs. But on arriving in the kitchen, he first of all saw his opponent, quietly talking at the foot of a heavy carriage drawn by two large Norman horses.

His interlocutor, whose head was visible through the frame of the carriage doors, was a woman of about twenty or twenty-two.

We have already talked about D'Artagnan's ability to quickly grasp the appearance: he noticed at first glance that the woman was young and beautiful. Her beauty amazed him all the more since it was a beauty of a kind that is unknown in the southern countries, where until then d'Artagnan lived. This woman was a pale blonde, with long curly hair that fell over her shoulders, with large blue, languid eyes, pink lips, and hands as white as marble. She had a very lively conversation with the stranger.

- Therefore, the cardinal orders me ... said the lady.

- Return immediately to England and warn him if the Duke left London.

- What other assignments? asked the lovely traveler.

- They are in this box, which you will not open until on the other side of the English Channel.

- Very good. What are you going to do?

- I'm going back to Paris.

- And leave this impudent boy unpunished? asked the lady.

The stranger wanted to answer, but the minute he opened his mouth, D'Artagnan, who had heard their conversation, appeared at the door.

“This insolent boy is punishing others,” he cried, “and this time I hope that the one he should be punished will not elude him.

- Will it slip away? protested the stranger, frowning.

“No, I suppose you dare not run in the presence of a woman.

- Think, said my lady, seeing that the nobleman raised his hand to the sword, - think that the slightest delay can ruin everything.

- You are right, said the nobleman: - go and I go.

And bowing to the lady, he jumped on his horse; while the coachman of the carriage whipped the horses with all his might. Both interlocutors rode at a gallop, in opposite directions.

- And money? shouted the owner, whose respect for the traveler turned into deep contempt when he saw that he was leaving without paying.

- Pay, shouted the traveler at a gallop to his footman, who, throwing two or three silver coins at the owner's feet, rode after the master.

- Coward! scoundrel! false nobleman! shouted d'Artagnan, rushing after the footman.

But the wounded man was still too weak to bear such a shock. As soon as he took ten steps, he felt a ringing in his ears; darkened in his eyes, and he fell in the middle of the street, still shouting:

- Coward! coward! coward!

- He really is a coward, muttered the owner, going up to d'Artagnan and trying with this flattery to make peace with the poor boy.

“Yes, a great coward,” said d'Artagnan. - But she, how beautiful she is!

- Who is she? asked the owner.

- Milady, whispered d'Artagnan, and fainted again.

- All the same, said the owner: - I am losing two, but I am left with this one, which will probably be able to detain at least a few days. I’ll win eleven crowns after all.

We already know that the amount in D'Artagnan's purse consisted of exactly eleven ECUs.

The owner counted on eleven days of illness, one ECU a day; but he counted without knowing his traveler. The next day d'Artagnan got up at five o'clock in the morning, went down to the kitchen himself, asked, besides some other drugs, the list of which has not reached us; wine, oil, rosemary, and according to his mother's prescription he made a balm, smeared his numerous wounds with it, renewed the sling himself and did not want any doctor.

Thanks, no doubt, to the power of the gypsy balsam and, perhaps, to the doctor’s exclusion, d'Artagnan was up by evening and almost healthy the next day.

But when he wanted to pay for rosemary, oil and wine - his only expense, because he followed the strictest diet - and for the feed of his yellow horse, which, on the contrary, according to the owner of the hotel, ate three times more her height, d'Artagnan found in his pocket only a crumpled velvet purse with 11 crowns in it, while the letter to de Treville disappeared.

The young man very patiently began to look for letters, turning out his pockets twenty times, rummaging in his bag and purse; when he became convinced that the letter was not there, then for the third time he fell into a fit of rage, which almost made him resort to using aromatic oil and wine again, because when he began to get excited and threatened to break everything in the institution if they did not find him letters, then the owner armed himself with a hunting knife, his wife with a broom, and the servants with the same sticks that had served the day before.

Unfortunately, one circumstance prevented the execution of the young man's threats, namely that his sword was broken in two during the first fight, which he completely forgot. Therefore, when d'Artagnan wanted to draw his sword, it turned out that he was armed with one piece of it, eight or ten inches long, which had been carefully sheathed by the innkeeper. He skillfully folded the rest of the blade to make a scoring needle out of it.

This probably would not have stopped the hot-blooded young man if the owner had not judged that the traveler's demand was entirely correct.

“Indeed,” he said, lowering the knife, “where is this letter?

- Yes, where is the letter? Shouted d'Artagnan. - I warn you that this letter to de Treville, it must be found; if it is not found, he will force you to find it.

This threat finally frightened the owner. After the king and cardinal, the name of de Treville was most often repeated by the military and even citizens. True, there was also a friend of the cardinal, Father Joseph, but the horror inspired by the gray-haired monk, as they called him, was so great that they never spoke of him aloud. Therefore, throwing down the knife, the owner ordered his wife to put the weapon down, and with fright, he began to look for the lost letter.

- Was there anything precious in this letter? asked the owner after a futile search.

- Of course, said Gascon, who expected to make his way to court with this letter: - it was my happiness.

- Spanish funds? asked the owner anxiously.

- Funds of His Majesty's own treasury, answered d'Artagnan.

- Damn it! said the owner in despair.

- But all the same, continued d'Artanyan with national self-confidence: - money means nothing, this letter was everything for me. I would rather be willing to lose a thousand pistols than this letter.

He wouldn't risk any more if he said twenty thousand; but some youthful modesty held him back.

A ray of light suddenly illuminated the mind of the owner, who sent himself to hell, finding nothing.

“The letter is not lost,” he said.

- A! said d'Artagnan.

- No, they took it from you.

- They took him, and who?

- Yesterday's nobleman. He went to the kitchen, where your jacket was, and he was there alone. I bet he stole the letter.

- You think so? answered d'Artagnan, not quite believing it; he knew that the letter was important only for him personally, and did not find a reason that could induce his abduction; none of the servants and travelers present would gain anything by acquiring it.

- So you say, said d'Artagnan, - that you suspect this impudent nobleman?

“I’m sure of that,” the host continued: “when I told him that de Treville was patronizing you, and that you even have a letter to this famous nobleman, it seemed very disturbing to him; he asked me where that letter was, and immediately went downstairs to the kitchen, where your jacket was.

- In that case, he is a thief, answered d'Artagnan: - I will complain to de Treville, and de Treville to the king. Then he took three crowns from his pocket, gave them to the owner, who accompanied him with his hat in his hand to the gate, mounted his yellow horse, and, without any incident, rode to the gate of St. Anthony in Paris, where he sold the horse for three crowns. This price was still quite significant, judging by the way d'Artagnan grazed his horse on the last transition. The dealer, who bought it for the aforementioned nine livres, told the young man that only the original color of the horse prompted him to give this exorbitant price.

So D'Artagnan entered Paris on foot, with a bundle under his arm, and walked until he found a room that would be worth the price of his meager means. This room was in the attic, in Rue de Graves, not far from Luxembourg.

D'Artanyan immediately paid the deposit and settled in his new apartment; the rest of the day he used to trim the camisole and pantaloons with the braid that his mother knocked out of D'Artanyan's father's almost new camisole and secretly given to him. Then he went to the iron line to order a blade for a sword; from there he went to the Louvre, asked the first musketeer he met where de Treville's hotel was and, upon learning that he was in the neighborhood of the room he rented, in the Rue de Vieux Dovecote, he considered this circumstance a good foreshadowing.

After all this, content with his behavior in Myung, without reproaches of conscience in the past, trusting in the present and with hope for the future, he lay down and fell asleep in a heroic dream.

He slept in the quiet sleep of a provincial until nine o'clock, got up and went to the famous de Treville, the third person in the kingdom, according to his father.

II. Front de Treville

De Truanil, as he was called back in Gascony, or de Treville, as he called himself in Paris, really started like d'Artagnan, that is, without a penny of cash, but with a reserve of courage, intelligence and sense, and it is such a capital that, having inherited it, the poorest Gascon nobleman has in hopes more than the richest nobleman in other provinces receives from his father in reality.

His courage and happiness, in those days when duels were in such a course, raised him to that height, which is called the grace of the court, and which he reached extremely quickly.

He was a friend of the king, who, as you know, greatly respected the memory of his father, Henry IV. De Treville's father faithfully served Henry during the wars against the league, but as Bearnets, who had suffered a shortage of money all his life, rewarded this lack of intelligence, which he was generously endowed, then after the surrender of Paris, he allowed de Treville to accept the coat of arms of the golden lion, with an inscription on the mouth fidelis et fortis. It meant a lot to honor, but little to welfare. Therefore, when the famous friend of the great Henry died, the only inheritance left to his son consisted of a sword and a motto. Thanks to such an inheritance and an unsullied name, de Treville was admitted to the court of the young prince, where he served so well with his sword and was so faithful to his motto that Louis XIII, who was excellent with the sword, used to say that if he had a friend, who would take it into his head to fight, he would advise him to take himself first, and after de Treville, and perhaps de Treville before.

Louis XIII had a real affection for de Treville, a royal, selfish affection; nevertheless, it was still an affection, because in these unfortunate times everyone tried to surround themselves with people like de Treville.

Many could choose the name "strong" as a motto, which was the second part of the inscription on his coat of arms, but few had the right to demand the epithet "faithful", which was the first part of that inscription. De Treville belonged to the latter: he was gifted with a rare organization, obedience to a dog, blind courage, speed in consideration and execution; his eyes served him only to see if the king was dissatisfied with someone, and the hand to hit someone he didn’t like. De Treville was lacking only an opportunity, but he lay in wait for him and intended to hold on to him tightly when he introduced himself. Louis XIII made de Treville the captain of the Musketeers, who were for him, by loyalty, or rather, by fanaticism, what they were - the ordinary guard for Henry III and the Scottish guard for Louis XI.

The cardinal, whose power was not inferior to the royal, for his part, did not remain in this respect in debt to the king. When he saw what a terrible and elite army Louis XIII surrounded himself with, he also wanted to have his own guard. He established his own Musketeers, and these two struggling powers recruited into their service people most famous for the art of wielding the sword, not only from all the provinces of France, but also from foreign countries. That is why Richelieu and Louis XIII often, in the evenings, playing chess, argued about the dignity of their servants. Each extolled the outward appearance and courage of their own and, out loud rebelling against duel and fights, they secretly incited their musketeers to them and felt true sadness or immoderate joy at the defeat or victory of their own. So, at least, says in the notes of one contemporary who was with some of these defeats and victories.

De Treville understood the weak side of his master, and this dexterity was due to the continued and constant favor of the king, who was not famous for his great loyalty to his friends.

He flaunted his musketeers with a sly air in front of the cardinal, whose gray mustache bristled with anger. De Treville perfectly understood the nature of the war of that time, when, when it was impossible to live at the expense of the enemies, the troops lived about their compatriots; his soldiers were a legion of devils who disobeyed no one but him.

Disheveled, half-drunk, with battle marks on their faces, the royal musketeers, or, better to say, the musketeers of de Treville, staggered about pubs, festivities and public games, shouting and twirling their mustaches, jingling swords, pushing when they met the cardinal's guards; sometimes at the same time they drew their swords in the middle of the street, with the certainty that if they were killed, they would be mourned and avenged, but if they killed, they would not mold in prison, because de Treville always rescued them. Therefore, de Treville was exalted by these people who adored him, and, despite the fact that in relation to others they were thieves and robbers, they trembled before him like schoolchildren before a teacher, obedient to his slightest word and ready to die, to wash away the slightest reproach.

De Treville used this powerful lever, first of all, for the king and his friends, then for himself and his own friends. However, in no notes of that time, which left so many notes on its own, it is not evident that this worthy nobleman was even accused by his enemies of taking payment for the assistance of his soldiers. Possessing a rare ability for intrigue, which placed him alongside the strongest intriguers, he was at the same time an honest man. Moreover, in spite of the tedious sword fighting and arduous exercises, he was one of the most graceful admirers of the fair sex, one of the finest dandies of his time; de Treville's successes were spoken of as Bassompierre was spoken of twenty years ago; and that meant a lot. The captain of the Musketeers was admired, feared and loved, therefore, he was at the apogee of human happiness.

Louis XIV, with the rays of his glory, eclipsed all the small stars of his court, but his father, the sun pluribus impar, did not interfere with the personal radiance of each of his favorites, the dignity of each of his courtiers. In addition to the king and cardinal in Paris, there were then up to two hundred persons, to whom they gathered during their morning dress. Between them, de Treville's toilet was one of the trendiest. The courtyard of his house, located in Staraya Golubyatnya Street, in the summer, from 6 o'clock in the morning, in the winter from 8, looked like a camp. From 50 to 60 armed musketeers were constantly walking there, who took turns, watching that their number was always sufficient in case of any need. On one of the large staircases, on the space of which an entire house would have been built in our time, the Parisian petitioners who were looking for some kind of favor rose and fell - provincial nobles, eagerly seeking to enroll in soldiers, and footmen, and braids of all colors, with various assignments from their masters to De Treville. In the hallway, on long semicircular benches, were sitting the elect, that is, those who had been invited. The conversation continued here from morning to evening, while de Treville, in the office adjacent to the hall, received visits, listened to complaints, gave orders, and could from his window, like a king from a Louvre balcony, do, whenever he liked, look to his people ...

The society that met on the day of D'Artagnan's presentation could inspire respect for everyone, especially the provincial; but d'Artagnan was a Gascon, and at that time, especially his compatriots, were famous for being not shy. Indeed, entering through a heavy gate with iron bolts, each had to pass through a crowd of people armed with swords, who fenced in the yard, challenging each other, arguing and playing with each other. Only officers, nobles and pretty women could walk freely among this violent crowd.

The young man's heart beat violently as he made his way through this noisy and disorderly crowd, holding his long sword to his slender legs and holding his hand by his hat with the half-smile of an embarrassed provincial who wants to behave himself. Passing through the crowd, he sighed more freely; but he felt that they were looking at him and, for the first time in his life, d'Artagnan, who had a rather good opinion of himself, found himself funny. On entering the stairs, a new difficulty was encountered; on the first steps, four musketeers amused themselves with an exercise of the following kind: one of them, standing on the top step, with a naked sword, interfered or tried to prevent the other three from climbing to the top. These three fenced very nimbly with swords. D'Artagnan first mistook swords for fencing foils; he thought that they were stupid, but soon, after some scratches, he became convinced that each of them was released and sharpened and, meanwhile, at each scratch, not only the audience, but also the characters laughed like crazy.

Occupying the top step at that moment, with amazing dexterity repelled his opponents. They were surrounded by a crowd of comrades who were waiting for their turn to take their places. The condition was such that with each blow the wounded was deprived of his turn in favor of the one who struck. At five minutes, three were scratched - one in the hand, another in the chin, the third in the ear, protecting the upper step, which remained intact, which, according to the condition, gave him three extra turns.

This passing of time surprised the young man, no matter how hard he tried not to be surprised at anything; in his province, where people are so easily inflamed, he saw many duels, but the boast of these four players surpassed anything he had heard so far, even in Gascony. He imagined himself in that glorious land of giants, where Gulliver was in such fear; but he had not yet reached the end: the vestibule and the front hall remained.

In the entryway they did not fight, but told stories about women, and in the front stories from court life. In the entryway, d'Artagnan blushed, in the hallway he trembled. His vivid imagination, which made him in Gascony dangerous for young maids, and sometimes even for their young mistresses, never even dreamed of so many love miracles, brave deeds, courtesies, adorned with the most famous names and immodest details. But as much as his morality suffered in the hallway, as much in the hallway his respect for the cardinal was insulted. There, to his great surprise, D'Artagnan heard a loud censure of the politics that made Europe tremble, and the cardinal's domestic life, into which the highest and most powerful nobles did not dare to penetrate with impunity; this great man, respected by d'Artagnan's father, served as a laughingstock for de Treville's musketeers, who mocked his crooked legs and hunched back; some sang songs composed for Madame d'Egillon, his mistress, and Madame Kambal, his niece, while others formed parties against the pages and guards of the cardinal-duke; all this seemed monstrous and impossible to d'Artagnan.

Meanwhile, when, unexpectedly, amid these stupid jokes about the cardinal, the name of the king was pronounced, all the mocking mouths closed, everyone looked around with incredulity, fearing the close proximity of de Treville's cabinet; but soon the conversation again returned to the cardinal, ridicule was renewed and none of his actions remained without criticism.

“Probably, all these people will be in the Bastille and on the gallows, thought d'Artagnan with horror, and I, no doubt, with them, because since I listened to their speeches, I would be mistaken for their accomplice. What would my father say, who ordered me to respect the cardinal, if he knew that I was in the company of such free-thinkers.

It is useless to say that d'Artagnan did not dare to interfere in the conversation; he only looked with all his eyes, listened with both ears, straining all his senses so as not to miss anything, and, despite believing in paternal instructions, he, according to his own taste and instinct, felt more disposed to praise than to blame everything that happened around him.

Meanwhile, since he was completely unknown to the crowd of de Treville's courtiers, who saw him for the first time, they asked him what he wanted. On this question, d'Artagnan respectfully said his name, placing special emphasis on the name of his compatriot, and asked the valet to give him an audience with de Trevelu; the valet in a patronizing tone promised to convey his request in due time.

D'Artagnan, recovering a little from the first surprise, began, out of nothing to do, to study the costumes and physiognomy.

In the middle of the liveliest group was a musketeer, large in stature, with a haughty face and in a strange suit that drew general attention to him. He was not wearing a uniform Kazakin, which, however, in this era of personal freedom was not an obligatory suit. He was wearing a caftan, a sky-blue color, a little faded and wrinkled, and on top of this caftan a sword sling splendidly embroidered in gold, shining like scales in the sunlight. A long, crimson velvet robe fell gracefully over the shoulders, revealing only the front of the shiny sling on which hung a giant rapier.

This musketeer only laughed from the guard, complained of a cold and, at times, feigned coughing. Therefore, he wrapped himself in a robe and spoke downwardly, twirling his mustache, while everyone admired his embroidered sling, and d'Artagnan most of all.

- What to do, said the musketeer: - it's in fashion; I know it's silly, but in vogue. However, you have to use your inheritance for something.

- Eh, Porthos, said one of those present, - do not assure us that this sling came to you from your father; it was presented to you by that veiled lady with whom I met you on Sunday, at the gates of Saint-Honoré.

- No, I swear on the honor of a nobleman that I bought it myself and with my own money, answered the one who was named Porthos.

- Yes, said another musketeer, - just like I bought this new wallet with the money that my mistress put in the old one.

- I assure you, said Porthos, - and as proof I will tell you that I paid 12 pistols for him.

The surprise was growing, although there were still doubts.

- Isn't it, Aramis? said Porthos, addressing the other musketeer.

This musketeer was in sharp contrast to the one who asked him: he was a young man, no more than 22 or 23 years old, with an innocent and pleasant face, with black eyes, pink and fluffy cheeks like an autumn peach; his thin mustache outlined the most regular line above his upper lip; he seemed to be afraid to put his hands down so that their veins would not become bloodshot, and, from time to time, pinched his ears to maintain their delicate and transparent scarlet color.

As a rule, he spoke little and slowly, often bowed, laughed softly, showing his beautiful teeth, which he apparently cared very much about as well as about his whole person. He answered a friend's question with an affirmative head sign. This sign seemed to have eliminated all doubts about the sling; continued to admire her, but did not say anything more, and the conversation suddenly turned to other subjects.

- What do you think of the story of Chalet's groom? asked the other musketeer, not addressing anyone in particular, but all together.

- And what does he say? asked Porthos.

- He says that he saw in Brussels Rochefort, a cardinal spy, disguised as a Capuchin; this accursed Rochefort, with the help of disguise, forged Mr. Lega as a mere fool.

“Like a complete fool,” said Porthos.

- But is it true?

- Aramis told me, answered the musketeer.

- Indeed?

- You know this, Porthos, said Aramis: - I told you this yesterday, we will not talk about it anymore.

“Do you think we shouldn't talk about it anymore?” said Porthos. - Don't talk about it! How soon did you decide! How! the cardinal surrounds the nobleman with spies, steals his correspondence by means of a traitor, a robber, a swindler and, with the help of this spy, and as a result of this correspondence, chops off Chalet's head, under the stupid pretext that he wanted to kill the king and marry his brother to the queen. No one could solve this riddle, you, to the delight of everyone, yesterday told us about it, and when we are still amazed by this news, you say today: we will not talk about it anymore!

“Let's talk if you wish,” Aramis said patiently.

“This Rochefort,” said Porthos, “would have spent an unpleasant moment with me if I were the groom of the Chalet.

“And you would have spent a not very pleasant quarter of an hour with the red duke,” said Aramis.

- A! red duke! Bravo! Bravo! the red duke, replied Porthos, clapping his hands and making signs of approval with his head, - this is excellent! I'm using that word, sir, be sure. What a pity you could not follow your calling, my friend, you would be the nicest abbot.

- Oh, this is only a temporary delay, said Aramis, - someday I will be an abbot; you know, Porthos, that for this I continue to study theology.

“Sooner or later he will do it,” said Porthos.

- Soon? said Aramis.

“He is waiting for only one circumstance to make up his mind and put on the cassock that he has under his uniform,” said one musketeer.

- What is he waiting for? asked another.

“He's waiting for the queen to give France an heir to the throne.

- Do not joke with this, gentlemen, said Porthos: - thanks to God, the queen is still such years that this can happen.

“They say that Mr. Bockingham is in France,” said Aramis with a sly grin, which gave an insulting meaning to this apparently simple phrase.

- My friend, Aramis, you are mistaken, said Porthos: - your mind always carries you too far; it would be bad if de Treville heard you.

“You want to teach me, Porthos,” said Aramis, and lightning flashed in his gentle gaze.

“My dear friend, be a Musketeer or an Abbot, but not both,” said Porthos. - Remember, Athos told you recently that you bend to all sides. Oh, don't be angry, please, it's useless; you know the condition between you, Athos and me. You visit Madame d'Eguillon and look after her; you visit Madame de Boa-Tracy, the cousin of Madame Chevreuse, and they say that you are in great favor with this lady. My God! do not confess your happiness, they do not elicit your secrets from you, knowing your modesty. But if you possess this virtue, why don't you observe it in relation to her majesty? Let them say who and what they want about the king and the cardinal, but the person of the queen is sacred, and if we talk about her, then we must say only good things.

“You, Porthos, are pretentious like Narcissus.

- I warn you, answered Aramis: - you know that I hate instructions other than those that Athos says. As for you, my dear, your sling is too splendid to trust your strict morality. I will be abbot if I please; as long as I am a musketeer, and therefore I say whatever comes to my mind, and at the present moment I will say that you are driving me out of patience.

- Aramis!

- Porthos!

- She, gentlemen, gentlemen! others screamed.

- De Treville is expecting Mr. d'Artagnan, interrupted the servant, opening the door of the office.

At this announcement, during which the office door remained open, everyone fell silent, and in the midst of the general silence the young Gascon walked along the front hall to the Musketeer captain's office, rejoicing from the bottom of his heart that he had escaped the consequences of this strange quarrel in time.

ІІІ. Audience

De Treville was in the worst mood; in spite of this, he politely greeted the young man, who bowed deeply to him. The young man's greeting, which reminded him of his youth and homeland by its Béarn accent, brought a smile to his lips; the recollection of these two objects is pleasant to a person at any age. But, going up to the hall at once, and making a sign to D'Artagnan with his hand, as if asking permission first to finish off the others, he shouted, gradually raising his voice:

- Athos! Porthos! Aramis!

Two musketeers already known to us, Porthos and Aramis, immediately separated from the group and entered the office, the door of which immediately closed behind them.

The expression on their faces, although not entirely calm, but full of dignity and humility, surprised D'Artagnan, who saw in these people demigods, and in their boss, Olympian Jupiter, armed with all his peruns.

When the two Musketeers entered, the door closed behind them, and the conversation in the hall, which this circumstance had given new food, began again; de Treville walked around the office three or four times in silence and frowning, suddenly stopped in front of the musketeers, casting them from head to toe with an irritated glance, and said:

“Do you know what the king told me last night? do you know gentlemen?

- No, both musketeers answered after a minute's silence, - no, we do not know.

- But I hope that you will do us honor - say, added Aramis in the most polite tone, bowing politely.

“He told me that he would go ahead to recruit his musketeers from the cardinal's guards.

- Of the cardinal's guards! Why is that? asked Porthos eagerly.

- Because bad wine requires an admixture of good to be corrected.

Both musketeers blushed from ear to ear. D'Artanyan did not know what to do and would have liked to sink into the ground better.

- Yes, yes, continued de Treville, getting more and more excited: - and His Majesty is right, because the Musketeers really play a miserable role at court. The cardinal told yesterday, while playing with the king, with an air of condolence, which I did not like very much, that the day before yesterday these damned musketeers, these devils, - and he made a mocking emphasis on these words, which I did not like even more - these thugs , he added, looking at me with his cat's eyes, “they were late in Ferou Street, in a tavern, and that the patrol of his guards — and while I thought he would burst out laughing — was compelled to arrest these violators of the order. Damn it, you should know about this! Stop the Musketeers! You were both among them; do not defend yourself, you were recognized and the cardinal called you by name. Of course, I am to blame, because I myself choose my people. Listen, you, Aramis, why did you covet a uniform when a cassock would go to you like that? And you, Porthos, in your beautiful sling, embroidered with gold, do you wear a straw sword? Athos! I do not see Athos! Where is he?

- Captain, Aramis answered sadly, - he is very ill.

- Sick, very sick, you say? What disease?

- They suspect that it is smallpox, answered Porthos, who wanted to intervene in the conversation, - which would be a great pity, because this would spoil his face.

- Smallpox! What a glorious story you tell, Porthos! Sick with smallpox in his summer! Can not be! Perhaps he was wounded, perhaps killed! Oh, if I knew? ... Gentlemen, Musketeers, I do not want you to visit bad places, so that you quarrel in the streets and fight at crossroads. Finally, I do not want you to serve as a laughingstock for the cardinal's guard, whose people are brave, dexterous, do not bring themselves to be detained; however, I am sure that they would not have allowed themselves to be arrested. They would rather let themselves be killed than retreat one step. Fleeing, leaving, fleeing - this is characteristic only of the royal musketeers.

Porthos and Aramis trembled with rage. They would have gladly strangled de Treville if they had not known that only love for them made him speak in this way. They knocked their feet on the carpet, bit their lips until they bled, and squeezed the hilts of their swords with all their might. In the hall they heard that de Treville had called Athos, Porthos and Aramis, and they knew from de Treville's voice that he was in great anger. Ten curious heads pressed their ears to the door and turned pale with rage, because they did not miss a word of what de Treville said and repeated the captain's hurtful words to everyone in the hall.

In one minute, the whole hotel was in excitement from the door of the office to the gate to the street.

- A! the royal musketeers allow themselves to be held back by the cardinal's guard, continued de Treville, inwardly furious with no less than his soldiers, uttering the words abruptly, as if plunging them one after another, like dagger strikes into the chest of listeners. - A! six of the cardinal's guards arrest six of his majesty's musketeers? Damn it! I've already made up my mind! I immediately set off for the Louvre, resign as captain of the royal musketeers, and apply to be a lieutenant in the cardinal's guard; if he refuses me, damn it, I'll become an abbot.

At these words, the outer whisper turned into an explosion; curses and curses were heard from all sides.

D'Artanyan was looking for a place where he could hide and felt an irresistible urge to crawl under the table.

- True, captain, said the flushed Porthos, - that there were six of us against six, but we were attacked treacherously, and before we drew our swords, two of us had already been killed, and Athos, dangerously wounded, could not do anything. You know Athos, captain, he tried twice to get up and fell twice. Despite this, we did not surrender, no, we were dragged away by force. On our way we were saved. As for Athos, he was considered dead and calmly left at the site of the battle, believing that it was not worth taking him away. This is our whole story. Damn it, captain! You cannot be the winner in all battles. The great Pompey was defeated at Pharsalus, and King Francis I, who is said to have cost Pompey, lost the battle at Pavia.

“And I have the honor to assure you that I killed one of them with his own sword,” said Aramis, “because mine broke at the first skirmish. Killed or stabbed as you please.

“I didn’t know that,” de Treville said, softening a little: “the cardinal, apparently, exaggerated.

- But do mercy, captain, continued Aramis, who dared to make a request, seeing that de Treville was calming down, - do mercy, do not say that Athos was wounded: he would be in despair if the king knew it; and since the wound is one of the most dangerous, because it went right through the shoulder into the chest, then one can be afraid ...

At that very moment a drapery rose at the door and a beautiful, noble, but extremely pale face emerged from it.

- Athos! cried both musketeers.

- Athos! repeated de Treville himself.

“You demanded me, captain,” said Athos to de Treville, in a weak but completely calm voice: “my comrades said that you demanded me and I hastened to appear for your orders; what do you want?

And with these words the musketeer, in impeccable form, with a sword, as usual, entered the office with a firm step. Moved to the core by this proof of courage, de Treville hurried to meet him.

“I just wanted to tell these gentlemen,” he added, “that I forbid my musketeers to unnecessarily endanger their lives, because brave men are dear to the king, and the king knows that his musketeers are the bravest people in the world. Give your hand, Athos.

And, not expecting a response to such an expression of favor, de Treville took his right hand and shook it with all his might, not noticing that Athos, with all the strength of his will, discovered a painful movement and turned pale even more, which seemed already impossible.

The door remained open; the appearance of Athos, whose wound was known to everyone, despite the desire to keep it secret, made a strong impression. The captain's last words were received with a cry of pleasure, and two or three heads, carried away with delight, appeared from behind the drapery. No doubt de Treville would have stopped this violation of the rules of etiquette with harsh words, but he suddenly felt that Athos's hand was convulsively clenching in his hand and noticed that he was fainting. At that very moment, Athos, who had gathered all his strength to overcome the pain, was finally defeated by her, fell like dead on the floor.

- Surgeon! cried de Treville, - my, the royal, the best surgeon, - or my brave Athos will die.

At de Treville's cry, everyone rushed into his office and began to fuss about the wounded man. But all their efforts would have been useless if the doctor had not happened in the house itself; he walked through the crowd, approached the insensible Athos, and since the noise and movement interfered with him, he asked, first of all, that the musketeer be immediately transferred to the next room. De Treville opened the door and showed the way to Porthos and Aramis, who carried their comrade away in their arms. This group was followed by a surgeon; the door closed behind him.

Then de Treville's office, a place usually highly respected, became like an anteroom. Each one reasoned aloud, spoke loudly, swore, sent the cardinal and his guards to hell.

A minute later Porthos and Aramis returned; only the surgeon and de Treville remained with the wounded man.

At last de Treville also returned. The wounded man came to his senses; the surgeon announced that the musketeer's condition should not bother his friends and that his weakness was simply due to the loss of blood.

Then de Treville made a sign with his hand and everyone left, except for d'Artagnan, who did not forget about his audience and with the stubbornness of Gascon stood in the same place.

When everyone had gone and the door was closed, de Treville was left alone with the young man.

During this confusion he completely forgot about d'Artagnan, and when asked what the stubborn supplicant wanted, d'Artagnan called himself by name. Then de Treville, remembering what was the matter, told him with a smile.

- Excuse me, my dear fellow countryman, I completely forgot about you. What to do! The captain is nothing more than the father of a family, burdened with more responsibility than the father of an ordinary family. Soldiers are grown-up children; but how I wish that the orders of the king, and especially of the cardinal, were executed ...

D'Artagnan could not help smiling. From this smile, de Treville understood that he was not dealing with a fool, and, getting down to business, changed the conversation.

“I loved your father very much,” he said. - What can I do for his son? Speak quickly, my time is precious.

“Captain,” said d'Artagnan, “leaving Tarbes, I was supposed to ask you, in memory of the friendship you have not forgotten, to welcome me the uniform of a musketeer; but, judging by everything that I saw during the two hours, I understand that such a favor would be too great and I am afraid that I do not deserve it.

- This is indeed a mercy, young man, answered de Treville: - but perhaps it does not exceed your strength as much as you think. In any case, I must regret to announce to you that, by decree of His Majesty, musketeers are accepted only after a preliminary test in several battles, after several brilliant exploits, or after two years of service in another, less patronized regiment.

D'Artagnan bowed silently. He felt even more desire to put on the tunic of the musketeer since he learned with what difficulties it is achieved.

- But, continued de Treville, fixing such a penetrating gaze on his fellow countryman, as if he wanted to penetrate him to the depths of his soul, - but, in the memory of your father, my old friend, as I have already told you, I want to do something for you young man. Our young Bearnians are usually not rich, and I doubt that the order of things has changed much since my departure from the provinces; you probably didn't bring a lot of money with you for living.

D'Artanyan drew himself up proudly, showing by this that he would not ask for alms from anyone.

- This is good, young man, it is good, continued de Treville: - I know this pride; I myself came to Paris with 4 crowns in my pocket, but I was ready to fight anyone who would say that I was not in a position to buy the Louvre.

D'Artanyan straightened even more; having sold a horse, at the beginning of his career he had 4 crowns more than de Treville.

- So, probably, as I told you, you need to save the amount that you have, whatever it may be; but you also need to improve on the exercises decent for a nobleman. Today I will write to the director of the royal academy, and tomorrow he will receive you without any payment. Don't give up on this little grace. Our noblest and richest nobles sometimes ask for it and cannot receive it. You will learn horse riding, fencing and dancing; make a good circle of acquaintance there and, from time to time, you will come to me to tell me how your classes will go; then we'll see what I can do for you.

Although d'Artagnan was still little familiar with the court's address, he understood the coldness of this reception.

- Alas, captain, he said, - I see now how much I have lost with the loss of my father's letter of introduction to you!

- Indeed, answered de Treville, - I am surprised that you have undertaken such a long journey without this only aid for us, Bearntsev.

“I had him,” said d'Artagnan, “but he was treacherously kidnapped from me.

And he recounted the scene in Myung, described with the smallest details the appearance of the stranger, and in his story there was so much enthusiasm and truth that it delighted de Treville.

“This is strange,” he said, pondering. “Are you right about me speaking out loud?”

“Yes, captain, I was so unreasonable. What to do! a name like yours served as a shield for me on the way; judge for yourself, how often I covered myself with them.

Flattery was then in great use, and de Treville loved praise as much as a king or a cardinal. He could not help smiling with pleasure, but that smile soon faded and, returning to the adventure in Myung, he continued:

- Tell me, did this nobleman have a slight scratch on his cheek?

- Yes, as if from a bullet.

- Is this a handsome man?

- Tall?

- The complexion is pale, the hair is black!

- Yes, yes, it is. How do you know this person? Ah, if only I could find him someday! And I will find him, I swear to you, at least in hell ...

- He was expecting one woman? continued de Treville.

- At least he left after a minute of conversation with the one he expected.

- Do you know what they were talking about?

- He gave her the box and said that it contained instructions, and that she would not open it until in London.

- Was this woman English?

“He called her my lady.

- It's him! whispered de Treville, "It is he, I thought he was still in Brussels."

“Oh, captain, if you know,” said d'Artagnan, “tell me who this man is and where he is from, then I’m even ready to return your promise to put me in the musketeers, because first of all I want to take revenge.

- Beware, young man, said de Treville: - on the contrary, if you see him on one side of the street, go to the other! Do not hit this rock, it will break you like glass.

“It will not hurt, however, said d'Artagnan,“ that if I ever meet him ...

“As long as, said de Treville, don’t look for him, I’ll give you advice.”

De Treville stopped; he suddenly seemed suspicious of this hatred loudly expressed by the young traveler towards a man whom he accused very improbably of having stolen his father's letter from him. "Wasn't this a hoax?" he wondered, “Has this young man been sent to him by the cardinal? is he not cunning? was not this supposed d'Artagnan a spy whom the cardinal wanted to bring into his house in order to take possession of his power of attorney and eventually destroy him; such cases were not uncommon. He looked at d'Artagnan even more intently than the first time. But at the sight of this face, expressing a subtle mind and easy obedience, he calmed down somewhat.

“I know he's a Gascon,” he thought; “But he may be as Gascon for me as for the cardinal. Let's test it. "

“My friend,” he said slowly, “I believe the story of the lost letter, and in order to smooth over the coldness of my reception, which you noticed at the beginning, I want to reveal to you, as the son of my old friend, the secrets of our policy. The king and the cardinal are great friends with each other; their apparent strife only serves to deceive the fools. I do not want my fellow countryman, a brave young man who must make a career, believe all these pretenses and, like a fool, fell into the net in the footsteps of others who died in them. Do not forget that I am devoted to these two omnipotent persons and that all my actions are aimed only at the service of the king and cardinal, one of the most glorious geniuses of France. Now, young man, understand this, and if you, like many of the nobles, harbor hostility towards the cardinal, whether due to family relationships, connections, or simply by instinct, then we will say goodbye and part forever. I will help you in many ways, but I will not leave you to myself. In any case, I hope that I have gained your friendship with my frankness, because you are the first young man with whom I speak in this way.

At the same time, de Treville thought: “If the cardinal sent this young fox to me, then, knowing how much I hate him, he truly taught his spy to say as much bad as possible about him in order to please me; and therefore, in spite of my praises to the cardinal, the cunning fellow countryman will probably answer me that he hates him.

Against de Treville's expectation, d'Artagnan replied very simply:

- Captain, I came to Paris with the same intentions. My father ordered me not to transfer anything and from anyone except the king, cardinal and you, whom he considers to be the first persons of France. D'Artagnan added de Treville's name to the rest, but he thought it would not spoil matters. “Therefore, I have great respect for the cardinal,” he continued, and his actions. So much the better for me, captain, if you speak to me frankly, because then you will appreciate the similarity of our opinions; but if you do not trust me, which, incidentally, is very natural, then I feel that I have hurt myself; but so much the worse if I lose your respect, which I cherish more than anything else.

De Treville was supremely surprised. This shrewdness and frankness struck him, but did not completely destroy his suspicion; the higher this young man was, the more dangerous he was if he was mistaken in him. Despite that, he shook D'Artagnan's hand and said;

“You are an honest young man, but now I can only do for you what I suggested to you. My house is always open to you. Subsequently, since you can come to me at any time and, therefore, take advantage of every opportunity, you will probably get what you want.

- That is, said d'Artagnan, - you will expect me to deserve this honor. So rest assured, he added with Gascon's familiarity, you won't have to wait long. And he bowed to leave, as if everything else depended on him alone.

- Wait, said de Treville, stopping him, - I promised to give you a letter to the director of the academy. Are you too proud to accept him, young man?

- No, captain, said d'Artagnan, - I can guarantee you that this letter will not happen what happened to the first. I will take care of it, so that it will reach the right place, I swear to you, and woe to the one who would take it into his head to steal it from me!

De Treville smiled at this boast and left his countryman in the embrasure of the window where they talked; he sat down at the table and began to write the promised letter of recommendation. At this time, d'Artagnan, out of nothing to do, began to drum on the glass, looking at the musketeers leaving one after another, seeing them off with his eyes until the turn of the street.

De Treville finished the letter, sealed it, and went up to the young man to give it to him; but at that very minute, when d'Artagnan stretched out his hand to take him, suddenly, to the great surprise of de Treville, he recoiled, flushed with anger and rushed out of the office, shouting:

- A! this time will not leave me!

- Who? asked de Treville.

- He, my thief, answered d'Artagnan. - A! robber!

And he disappeared.

- Crazy! muttered de Treville. Perhaps, he added, it is a clever means of getting away, seeing that the trick has failed.

IV. Shoulder of Athos, Sling of Porthos and Shawl of Aramis

Furious d'Artagnan in three jumps jumped out through the hall to the stairs, along which he began to descend through four steps, and suddenly, as he ran, hit his head on the shoulder of the musketeer who was leaving de Treville through a secret door. The Musketeer screamed, or rather groaned.

- Excuse me, said d'Artagnan and wanted to continue running away, - sorry, I'm in a hurry.

As soon as he went down one step, an iron hand grabbed him by the belt and stopped him.

- You are in a hurry, said the musketeer, pale as a shroud: - under this pretext you are pushing me, saying excuse me, and you think that this is enough? Not really, young man. Do you think that if you heard that de Treville spoke to us a little harshly today, then you can also treat us the same? Unconvinced, comrade, you are not de Treville.

“I assure you,” said d'Artagnan, who recognized Athos, who, after examining the wound by the doctor, was returning to his room, “really, I did it without intention and therefore said: excuse me; seems enough; but I repeat to you that I am in a hurry, very in a hurry. Let me go, please, let me go about my business.

- My dear sir, said Athos, letting go of him, - you are impolite. It can be seen that you have come from afar.

D'Artanyan had already gone three or four steps, but after Athos's remark he stopped.

- Damn it! wherever I come from, but it's not for you to teach me good techniques.

“Perhaps, said Athos.

- Ah, if I didn't have to hurry so ... said d'Artagnan, - if I didn't run after someone.

“You’re in a hurry, but you don’t need to run to find me; you will find me, can you hear?

- Where, tell me?

- Near the monastery of the Carmelites.

- At what time?

- About twelve.

- About twelve; ok i will.

“Try not to keep yourself waiting, because a quarter of an hour later I'll cut off your ears as I run.

- Okay, shouted d'Artagnan, - I'll be there at ten minutes to twelve.

And he ran like a madman, still hoping to find his stranger, who could not go far with his calm step.

But at the gate, Porthos was talking with a guard. There was exactly as much distance between the talkers as it took for one person to walk.

D'Artanyan thought that this space would be enough for him and rushed between them like an arrow. But he hadn't counted on the gust of wind. As soon as he was about to pass, the wind blew Porthos' long cloak and d'Artagnan fell right under the cloak. Of course, Porthos had his reasons to hold back this essential part of the garment, and instead of lowering the floor he was holding, he pulled it towards him, so that d'Artagnan wrapped himself in a velvet circle.

D'Artanyan, hearing the musketeer's curses, wanted to get out from under the cloak that had entangled him. He was especially afraid lest he smear the magnificent sling, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself with his nose between the shoulders of Porthos, that is, right in front of the sling.

Alas! as most of the things in the world are beautiful only from the outside, so the sling was gold only in the front, and in the back it was made of simple buffalo skin.

The boastful Porthos, not being able to have a whole golden sling, had at least half of it, which explains his cold and his urgent need for a cloak.

“Damn it,” said Porthos, making every effort to free himself from d'Artagnan, stirring behind him, “you rush at people like mad.

- Excuse me, said d'Artagnan, appearing under the giant's shoulder, - I'm in a hurry, I need to catch up with one gentleman and ...

- Do you run with your eyes closed? asked Porthos.

- No, answered the offended d'Artagnan, - and, thanks to my eyes, I see even what others do not see.

It is not known whether Porthos understood what he meant by this, but he got angry and replied:

“I warn you that if you treat the Musketeers in this way, you will be beaten.

- I'll be beat! said d'Artagnan, - this word is a little harsh.

- This is a decent word for a person who is used to looking enemies directly in the eyes.

- O! I know you don't turn your back on them.

And the young man, pleased with his joke, left, laughing at the top of his lungs.

Porthos flew into a rage and made a move to charge d'Artagnan.

- After, after, d'Artagnan shouted, - when you take off your cloak.

- Well, at one o'clock, beyond Luxenburg.

- Very well, at one o'clock, answered d'Artagnan, turning the corner.

But neither the street he ran, nor the one into which he now turned, was there the one he was looking for. No matter how quietly the stranger walked, he was already out of sight; maybe he went into a house. D'Artanyan asked everyone he met about him, went down to the ferry, walked along the Seine Street and the Red Cross, but did not find anyone.

This walking, however, served him well in the sense that as sweat poured down his forehead, his heart became cold. Then he began to reflect on the latest incidents; There were many of them, and all of them were unhappy: it was only 11 o'clock in the morning, and he had already fallen into de Treville's disfavor, to whom D'Artagnan's act of leaving him could not seem polite.

In addition, he accepted two challenges to duels with people capable of killing three d'Artagnans each, moreover with two Musketeers, that is, with people whom he respected so much and considered above all other people.

The future was sad. Confident that Athos would be killed, the young man cared little for Porthos. However, as hope never leaves a person, then he began to hope that he would survive these two duels, of course with terrible wounds, and in case he survived, he gave himself the following lesson:

- What a brainless I am! The brave, unfortunate Athos was wounded exactly in the shoulder on which I hit my head like a ram. It's amazing that he didn't kill me on the spot; he had the right to do that, because I probably hurt him badly.

And, against his will, the young man began to laugh, looking back so that with this laugh, for no apparent reason to others, who of the passing would not be offended.

“As far as Porthos is concerned, it’s funny, nevertheless I’m an unfortunate windy.” Do they rush at people like that without shouting, beware? no. And do they look under their cloaks to look for something that is not there? He would certainly forgive me; yes, he would have forgiven if I had not told him about this damned sling; although, however, I did not say directly, but only hinted. Damned Gascon habit! I think I would joke on the gallows too.

“Listen, my friend, d'Artagnan,” he continued, talking to himself, with all the courtesy to which he considered himself obliged in relation to himself, “if you remain whole, which is incredible, then you should be polite for the future. You need to be surprised, to set you up as an example to others. Being considerate and polite does not mean being a coward. Look at Aramis. Aramis is modesty and grace personified. And would anyone dare to say that he is a coward? No doubt not, and from now on I want to follow his example in everything. And here he is.

D'Artagnan, walking and talking to himself, reached d'Egillon's house, in front of which he saw Aramis, cheerfully talking with three nobles from the royal guard. Aramis also noticed d'Artagnan. But as he did not forget that in the morning de Treville was getting excited in the presence of this young man and, as a witness to the reprimand given to the Musketeers, was not pleasant to him, he pretended not to notice him. D'Artanyan, on the other hand, wishing to carry out his plan of reconciliation and courtesy, approached the four young people and bowed to them with the most pleasant smile. Aramis tilted his head slightly, but did not smile. All four of them stopped talking at once.

D'Artanyan was not so stupid as not to understand that he was superfluous; but he was not yet so used to the techniques of the big world that he was cleverly able to get out of the false position of a person who intervened in a conversation that did not concern him, and with people he barely knew.

Pondering a means to retire as deftly as possible, he noticed that Aramis had dropped his handkerchief. And, no doubt, through negligence, he stepped on him; It seemed to him a good opportunity to correct his indecent act: he bent down and, with the most amiable air, pulling the handkerchief out from under the feet of the musketeer, who was making every possible effort to restrain it, handing it over, said:

- I think, my dear sir, that you would be annoyed to lose this handkerchief.

The scarf was really richly embroidered, with a crown and a coat of arms on one of the corners. Aramis blushed extremely and pulled rather than took the handkerchief from Gascon's hands.

- Ah, secretive Aramis, said one of the guards: - will you still say that you are on bad terms with Madame de Boa-Tracy when this lovely lady lends you her scarves?

Aramis gave D'Artagnan a look that made it clear to him that he had acquired a mortal enemy; then, assuming a meek air again, he said:

- You are mistaken, gentlemen, this is not my handkerchief, and I do not know why this gentleman took it into his head to give it to me, and not to one of you; and as proof I will show you that my handkerchief is in my pocket.

With these words, he took out his own handkerchief, also very elegant, from thin cambric, although cambric was expensive at that time, but without embroidery, without a coat of arms, and decorated only with the monogram of its owner.

This time d'Artagnan did not say a word; he understood his imprudence. But Aramis's friends were not convinced of his denial, and one of them said, addressing the young musketeer with feigned importance:

“If you’re telling the truth, then I should, my dear Aramis, take it from you, because, as you know, I am one of de Boa-Tracy’s sincere friends and do not want to brag about the things of his wife.

- You are not asking so, Aramis answered, - and, realizing the justice of your demand, I could not fulfill it, because it is not so expressed as it should.

“The fact is,” d'Artagnan ventured to say, “that I didn’t see if the handkerchief fell out of Mr. Aramis’s pocket. He stepped on him, which is why I thought it was his.

- And you are mistaken, my dear, said Aramis coolly, insensitive to d'Artagnan's desire to correct his mistake. Then, addressing the guardsman, who declared himself a friend of de Boa-Tracy, he continued. - However, I think, my dear friend Boa-Trasi, that I am no less your tender friend of his; so the handkerchief could fall out of your pocket as well as out of mine.

No, I swear on my honor! said His Majesty's Guardsman.

You will swear on your honor, and I on my word of honor and it is obvious that one of us will lie. Listen, Mongaran, let's do it better, take half each.

- A scarf?

- Fine! said the other two guards, - the judgment of King Solomon! Aramis is decidedly a wise man!

The young people laughed and the case, of course, had no other consequences. A minute later, the conversation ended; the three guardsmen and the musketeer, shaking hands, set off - the guardsmen in one direction, Aramis in the other.

- Here's a minute to make peace with this amiable young man, said d'Artagnan to himself, who had stood a little to the side during their last conversation; and with this intention he approached Aramis, who was walking away, not paying attention to him:

“My dear sir,” he said, “I hope you will excuse me.

- Ah, said Aramis, let me tell you that in this case you did not act as a secular person should.

“As you suppose, said d'Artagnan.

“I suppose you are not stupid, and that although you come from Gascony, you know that you don’t step on a handkerchief for no reason. Damn it, Paris isn't paved with cambric!

- You want to insult me ​​in vain, said d'Artagnan, whose quarrelsome nature prevailed over the peaceful disposition: - it is true that I am from Gascony, and the Gascons, as you know, are impatient, so if Gascon once apologized, at least in stupidity, then he is already convinced that he has done twice as much as he should have done.

- I told you this not so that I wanted to quarrel with you, Aramis answered: - thanks to God, I am not a bully and, being a musketeer only for a while, I fight only under compulsion and always very reluctantly; but this time the matter is important because you have compromised the lady.

“That is, we have compromised her,” said d'Artagnan.

- Why were you so awkward that you gave me this handkerchief?

- Why did you drop it?

- I repeat to you that the handkerchief did not fall out of my pocket.

“So you lied twice because I saw you drop it.

- A! you start to speak in a different tone, Mr. Gasconet, so I will teach you how to live.

“And I will send you to your monastery, Mr. Abbot. Would you like to draw your sword at once?

- No, please, my friend, not here at least. Can't you see that we are standing opposite the house of d'Egillon, which is filled with cardinal creatures. Who can assure me that the cardinal did not commission you to deliver my head to him? And I value my head, because it seems to me that it fits my shoulders very well. Calm down, I want to kill you, but without publicity, in a closed place where you could not boast of your death to anyone.

- I agree, but do not hope so; take your handkerchief, whether it belongs to you or not, you may need it.

- Are you Gascon? asked Aramis.

- Yes, Gascon, and I do not postpone the duel out of caution.

- Caution is a virtue, useless for the musketeers, but necessary for the spiritual, and since I am a musketeer only for a while, I want to be careful. At two o'clock I shall have the honor of waiting for you at de Treville's house; there I will assign you a place.

The young people bowed, then Aramis walked along the street leading to Luxembourg, meanwhile d'Artagnan, seeing that the time was approaching, set off along the road to the Carmelite monastery, arguing: - I definitely will not return from there; but if I am killed, at least I will be killed by the Musketeer.

V. Royal Musketeers and Cardinal's Guards

D'Artagnan did not know anyone in Paris, and therefore he went on a date with Athos without a second, deciding to be content with those chosen by his opponent. However, he resolutely intended to apologize decently, but without weakness, to the brave musketeer, fearing that this duel would have unpleasant consequences for him, which occur when a young and strong man fights with an opponent weakened from wounds: if he is defeated, then this doubles the triumph of his rival, if he remains the winner, then he will be accused of crime and inappropriate courage.

However, if we have correctly described the character of our adventurer, then the reader should have already noticed that d'Artagnan was not an ordinary person. Repeating to himself that his death was inevitable, he decided not to die on the sly, as he would have done in his place by another, less brave and moderate.

He talked about the different characters of those persons with whom he was to fight, and began to understand more clearly his position. He hoped, by means of prepared apologies, to acquire the friendship of Athos, whose grave and stern appearance he liked very much.

He flattered himself with the hope of frightening Porthos with an adventure with a sling, which, if he was not killed, he could tell everyone; and this story, put into play by the way, would have exposed Porthos from the ridiculous side; finally, as for the gloomy Aramis, he was not too afraid of him; thinking that if it comes to him, then he will send him to the next world beautiful as he is, or, at least, hit him in the face, as Caesar ordered to do with the soldiers of Pompey, forever damage the beauty that he so cherished.

Moreover, d'Artagnan had an inexhaustible reserve of determination, put in his heart by his father's advice, the essence of which was as follows:

"Do not carry anything from anyone except the king, cardinal and de Treville," and therefore he flew rather than walked to the monastery of the Carmelites; it was a building without windows, surrounded by empty fields and usually served as a meeting place for people who did not like to waste time.

When d'Artagnan reached a small empty place near this monastery, Athos was already waiting for him, but no more than five minutes, and at that very time twelve o'clock struck. Consequently, he was neat, and the strictest guardian of duels could not reproach him.

Athos, still suffering severely from the wound, although bandaged again by de Treville's surgeon, sat at the border and awaited his opponent with an air of calm dignity that never left him. At the sight of D'Artagnan, he got up and politely took a few steps to meet him. He, for his part, approached the enemy with a hat in his hand, the feather of which touched the ground.

- My dear sir, said Athos, - I asked two of my friends to be my seconds, but they have not come yet. I am surprised that they are late, this is not their habit.

“I have no seconds,” said d'Artagnan, “I just arrived in Paris yesterday and I don’t know anyone except de Treville, who was recommended by my father, who had the honor of being one of his friends.

Athos thought for a moment.

“You don’t know anyone but de Treville?” he asked.

- Yes, I don't know anyone but him.

“But, continued Athos, speaking partly to himself, partly to D'Artagnan,“ but if I kill you, they will call me a baby-eater.

- Not quite, answered d'Artagnan, with a bow not devoid of dignity, - not quite, because you are doing me honor, you are fighting with me, in spite of the wound, which probably worries you very much.

“Very troubling, honestly, and you were the cause of the hell of a pain, I must confess; but in such cases I usually act with my left hand. Do not think that I would like to show you mercy, I fight equally with both hands; it will even be disadvantageous to you; dealing with lefties is very inconvenient for those who are not warned about it. I regret not having informed you of this earlier.

“You are very kind,” said d'Artagnan; bowing again - and I am very grateful to you.

- You embarrass me, answered Athos; - we will, please, talk about something else, if this is not disgusting to you. Oh, damn it, how you hurt me! My shoulder is on fire.

“If you would have allowed…” D'Artagnan said hesitantly.

- I have a wonderful balm for wounds, a balm I received from my mother, the effect of which I experienced on myself.

- Well, so what?

“I am sure that with this balm your wound would heal in less than three days, and after three days, when you recovered, I would consider it an honor to be at your service.

D'Artanyan said these words with a simplicity that did honor to his courtesy and did not harm his courage.

- Indeed, said Athos, - I like your proposal, not because I wanted to accept it, but you can hear a nobleman in it. So spoke and did the brave of Charlemagne's times, whose example every noble person should follow. Unfortunately, we are not living in the time of the great emperor. We now have the time of a cardinal, and no matter how they keep a secret, in three days they will find out that we must fight and they will interfere with us. But why don't these revelers go?

“If you are in a hurry,” said d'Artagnan to Athos, with the same simplicity that he had suggested postponing the duel for three days in a minute, “if you are in a hurry, and you want to get down to business immediately, then do not hesitate, please.

“I also like it,” Athos said, making a courteous sign with his head to d'Artagnan: “only a person with a mind and a heart can say that. I love people like you, and I see that if we do not kill each other, then I will always find true pleasure in your conversation. Please wait for these gentlemen, I am free and moreover the matter will be more correct.

- Ah! here it seems one of them!

Indeed, the giant Porthos appeared at the end of the Rue Vaugirard.

- How! said d'Artagnan, "is your first second, Mr. Porthos?"

- Yes, don't you like it?

- No, not at all.

- And here's another.

D'Artanyan looked in the direction that Athos pointed to and recognized Aramis.

- How, he said with even greater surprise than the first time, - your second second, Mr. Aramis?

- Without a doubt: don't you know that we are always together, and that we are called between the musketeers and the guards, in the city and at court: Athos, Porthos and Aramis, or three inseparable. However, since you come from Dax or from Po ...

“From Tarbes,” said d'Artagnan.

“You are forgiven for not knowing these details,” said Athos.

- You were justly called that, gentlemen, said d'Artagnan, - and if they recognize my adventure, it will serve as proof that your union is not based on contrasts.

At this time, Porthos, approaching, greeted Athos; then he turned to d'Artagnan and stopped in surprise.

Let's say, by the way, that he changed his sling and took off his cloak.

- A! he said, "What does that mean?"

“I am fighting this gentleman,” said Athos, pointing to d'Artagnan, and made a greeting to him with his hand.

“I’m fighting him too,” said Porthos.

- But not earlier than an hour, answered d'Artagnan.

“And I am also fighting this gentleman,” said Aramis, approaching in turn.

- But not earlier than two o'clock, d'Artagnan also calmly said.

- What are you fighting for, Athos? asked Aramis.

- I really don't know, he touched my aching shoulder; and what are you for, Porthos?

Athos saw a slight smile flicker across Gascon's lips.

“We had an argument about the toilet,” the young man said.

- And you, Aramis? asked Athos.

- I am fighting for theology, answered Aramis, making a sign to d'Artagnan not to talk about the reason for the duel.

For the second time Athos noticed the smile on D'Artagnan's lips.

- Indeed? said Athos.

- Yes, we do not agree in the sense of one phrase from St. Augustine, Gascon said.

“This is a decidedly intelligent man,” Athos whispered.

- Now that you have gathered, gentlemen, said d'Artagnan, - let me apologize to you.

At the word "apologize" Athos frowned, a contemptuous smile flashed on Porthos's lips, and a negative sign with his head was Aramis's answer.

- You do not understand me, gentlemen, said raising his head d'Artagnan ... At this time, the rays of the sun, falling on his head, illuminated the delicate and bold features of his face: - I apologize in this case, if I do not have time to get even with all of you because Mr. Athos has the right to kill me first, which significantly reduces the value of my debt to you, Mr. Porthos, and to you, Mr. Aramis, is almost destroyed. Now I repeat my apology, but only in this - and to the point.

At these words, with the greatest dexterity, d'Artagnan drew out his sword. The blood rushed to d'Artagnan's head, and at that moment he was ready to draw his sword against all the musketeers of the kingdom, as he now drew it against Athos, Porthos and Aramis.

It was a quarter past twelve. The sun was at its zenith, and the place chosen for the scene of the duel was quite open to the action of its rays.

“It's very hot,” said Athos, taking out his sword in his turn; - but I still can't take off my camisole, because now I felt that blood was pouring from my wound, and I don't want to bother Mr. D'Artagnan with the sight of blood that he didn't let me into.

- It's true, said d'Artagnan: - whoever bleeds your blood, I assure you that I would always regret to see the blood of such a brave nobleman; I will also fight in a jacket like you.

- Enough, said Porthos, - enough courtesies, think that we are waiting in line.

- Speak for yourself alone, Porthos, when you want to say such obscenities, said Aramis, - as for me, I find that everything these gentlemen say is very good and quite worthy of a nobleman.

- Is it good for you to start? said Athos, taking his place.

“I await your orders,” said d'Artagnan, crossing swords.

But as soon as the sound of rapiers was heard, a detachment of the cardinal's guard, led by Jussac, appeared at the corner of the monastery.

- The Cardinal's Guards! suddenly cried Porthos and Aramis. - Swords in a sheath, gentlemen, swords in a sheath!

But it was too late. Those who fought were seen in a position that did not allow doubts about their intentions.

- Her! shouted Jussac, approaching them and beckoning his soldiers, - Musketeers, you are fighting! And what are the decrees for?

“You are very generous, gentlemen of the guards,” said Athos angrily, for Jussac was one of the attackers of the third day. - If we saw that you are fighting, I assure you that we would not interfere with you. Leave us freedom, and you will have pleasure without any difficulty.

- Gentlemen, said Jussac, - I declare to you with great regret that this is impossible. Service duty comes first. Put in your swords and follow us.

- My dear sir, said Aramis, mimicking Jussac, - we would with the greatest pleasure accept your kind invitation, if it depended on us; but unfortunately this is not possible; de Treville forbade us. Go your own way, that will be the best.

This sneer irritated Jussac to the extreme.

“If you disobey,” he said, “then we will attack you.

Athos, Porthos, and Aramis drew closer to each other while Jussac was instructing his soldiers.

This minute was enough for d'Artagnan to make up his mind: it was one of those events that decide the fate of a person; he had to make a choice between the king and the cardinal and, having made a choice, he had to stick to it forever. To fight meant disobeying the law, risking one's head, becoming the enemy of a minister who was more powerful than the king himself; all this was foreseen by the young man, and, let's say in praise of him, he did not hesitate for a minute. Addressing Athos and his friends, he said:

“Gentlemen, let me point out that you are wrong. You said that there are only three of you, but it seems to me that there are four of us.

“But you’re not one of ours,” said Porthos.

- It's true, answered d'Artagnan, - I'm not yours in dress, but your soul. I have a musketeer's heart, and it fascinates me.

“Move aside, young man,” said Jussac, who no doubt guessed his intention from the movements and expression on D'Artagnan’s face: “You can leave, we agree to that. Save yourself soon.

D'Artanyan did not move.

“You are decidedly a fine boy,” said Athos, shaking the young man’s hand.

- Well, well, make up your mind, said Jussac.

- Yes, said Porthos and Aramis, - let's decide on something.

“This gentleman is very generous,” said Athos.

But all three thought about D'Artagnan's youth and feared for his inexperience.

- There will be only three of us, including one wounded, and even a child, said Athos, - but still they will say that there were four of us.

- Yes, but really retreat? said Porthos.

- It is difficult, answered Athos.

D'Artanyan understood their indecision.

“Gentlemen, try me all the same,” he said: “I swear on my honor that I will not leave here if we are defeated.

- What is your name, my friend? asked Athos.

- D'Artanyan.

- So, Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan, go ahead! shouted Athos.

- Well, gentlemen, have you decided on anything, asked Jussac for the third time.

- It is decided, gentlemen, said Athos.

- What have you decided on? Jussac asked.

“We will have the honor to attack you,” answered Aramis, taking off his hat with one hand, and taking out his sword with the other.

- Oh, you resist! said Jussac.

- Does that surprise you?

And the nine fighters rushed at each other, with a fury that did not interfere with the observance of some of the rules.

Athos chose Kagyuzak for himself, the cardinal's favorite; Porthos - Bikara, and Aramis found himself against two opponents.

As for d'Artagnan, he rushed at Jussac himself.

The heart of the young Gascon was beating strongly, not from fear, thanks to God, there was not even a shadow of fear in it, but from a strong sensation; he fought like a mad tiger, going around his opponent ten times, changing position and place twenty times. Jussac was, as they said then, varnish to the blade and practiced a lot; in spite of that, it was very difficult for him to defend himself against a dexterous and leaping enemy, every minute deviating from the accepted rules, suddenly attacking from all sides and repelling blows, like a person who has full respect for his skin.

Finally, this struggle began to drive Jussac out of patience. Enraged by the failure against the enemy, whom he looked at as a child, he flared up and began to make mistakes. D'Artanyan, who, although he had little practice, but studied the theory deeply, began to act even more quickly. Jussac, wanting to end at once, struck a strong blow to the enemy, bending down to the ground, but he parried the blow immediately, and while Jussac was getting up, he slipped like a snake under his sword and pierced him through.

Jussac fell like a corpse.

D'Artanyan then quickly examined the place of the battle.

Aramis has already killed one of his opponents; but the other pressed him hard. However, Aramis was still in a good position and could still defend himself.

Bikara and Porthos both wounded each other. Porthos was hit in the hand, Bikara in the thigh. But no matter how dangerous either one or the other wound, they continued to fight with even greater ferocity.

Athos, wounded again by Kagyuzak, apparently turned pale, but did not retreat a single step; he only took the sword in his other hand and was now fighting with his left.

D'Artanyan, according to the laws of a duel of that time, had the right to help someone, while he was looking out for which of his comrades needed his help, he met the gaze of Athos. This look was eloquent in the highest degree. Athos would rather die than call for help, but he could look and ask for support with his gaze. D'Artanyan guessed his thought, making a terrible leap and attacking Kagyuzak from the side, shouted:

- Come to me, Mr. Guardsman, or I will kill you!

Kagyuzak turned around; it was on time. Athos, supported only by extreme courage, fell to one knee.

“Listen, he shouted to d'Artagnan,“ don’t kill him, young man, I beg you, I need to finish with him an old business when I’m recovered. ” Disarm him only, take away the sword from him.

- So, so, good!

This exclamation escaped Athos at the sight of Kagyuzak's sword, flying off in twenty steps. D'Artanyan and Kagyuzak suddenly rushed, one to grab the sword again, the other to master it; but d'Artagnan was more agile, he managed to get ahead and stepped on her with his foot.

Kagyuzak ran to the one of the guards that Aramis had killed, took his sword and wanted to return to d'Artagnan; but on the way he met Athos, who, during a minute's rest, given to him by d'Artagnan, took a deep breath, and fearing that d'Artagnan would not kill his opponent, he wanted to start a battle.

D'Artanyan realized that to prevent Athos meant to offend him. Indeed, a few seconds later, Kagyuzak fell, struck by the sword in the throat.

At the same minute, Aramis, thrusting his sword into the chest of the overturned enemy, forced him to beg for mercy.

Porthos and Bikara remained. Porthos made various boastful antics, asking Bikar what time it was and congratulating him on the company his brother had received in the Navarre regiment; but by mocking he won nothing. Bikara was one of those iron people who only fall dead.

In the meantime, it was time to end: the guard could come and take away all those who fought, wounded and not wounded, royal or cardinal. Athos, Aramis and d'Artagnan surrounded Bikar and urged him to surrender. Although one against all, and wounded in the thigh, Bikara did not retreat; but Jussac, propping himself up on one elbow, shouted at him to surrender. Bikara was Gascon as was d'Artagnan; he pretended not to hear, and continued to laugh, then, seizing the time to point the end of the sword to a place on the ground, he said:

- Bikara will die here.

“But there are four of them against you; stop it, I order you.

- A! if you order, that's another matter, said Bikara: - since you are my foreman, then I must obey.

And, making a leap back, he broke the sword on his knee so as not to give it away, threw the fragments over the wall of the monastery and, crossing his arms, began to whistle the cardinal's song.

Courage is always respected, even in the enemy. The Musketeers gave Bikar a salute with swords and sheathed them. D'Artanyan did the same, then with the help of Bikar, who alone remained on his feet, took Jussak, Kaguzak and that of Aramis's opponents, who was only wounded, to the porch of the monastery. The fourth, as we have already said, was killed. Then they rang the bell and, carrying away 4 out of five swords, went, intoxicated with joy, to the house of de Treville.

They walked hand in hand across the entire width of the street and took away all the musketeers they met, so that at last it turned into a solemn procession.

D'Artagnan was delighted; he walked between Athos and Porthos, embracing them tenderly.

“If I’m not a Musketeer yet,” he told his new friends as he entered the gates of de Treville’s house, “at least I have already been accepted as a disciple, haven’t I?

Vi. King Louis XIII

This incident caused a lot of noise: de Treville loudly scolded his musketeers, and slowly congratulated them, but since it was necessary, without wasting time, to warn the king, de Treville hurried to the Louvre. But it was too late. The cardinal was with the king, and de Treville was told that the king was engaged and could not receive him at that moment. In the evening, de Treville came to the king during the game. The king was winning and was in excellent spirits, because his majesty was very stingy, so as soon as he saw de Treville, he said.

- Come here, Mr. Captain, come, I'll scold you; do you know that the cardinal complained to me about your musketeers, and with such excitement that he fell ill tonight. But your musketeers are devils, they must be outweighed.

- No, sir, answered de Treville, who noticed at first glance what turn the matter had taken: - no, on the contrary, they are good people, quiet as lambs, I can guarantee that they have only one desire, that their swords be taken out of their scabbards only for service your majesty. But what to do, the cardinal's guards are constantly looking for quarrels with them and, for the honor of their regiment, the poor things are forced to defend themselves.

- Listen, de Treville, said the king, - listen, you might think he is talking about some monks. Indeed, my dear captain, I would like to take your office away from you and give it to Madame de Chemreux, to whom I promised the abbey. But don't think that I will take your word for it. They call me Louis the Just, and I will now prove it.

- Fully relying on your justice, sir, I will patiently and calmly await your Majesty's orders.

“I won't keep you waiting long,” said the king.

Indeed, happiness changed, the king was beginning to lose, and therefore he really wanted to find an excuse to leave the game.

A few minutes later the king got up and, putting in his pocket the money lying in front of him, of which he had won most of it, said:

“La Vieville, take my place, I need to speak to de Treville about an important matter. Yes, since there were 80 louis in front of me, then put this amount as well, so that the losers could not complain. Justice comes first.

Then he went with de Treville to the embrasure of the window.

“So,” he continued, “you say that the cardinal's guards themselves sought quarrels with the musketeers.

- Yes, sir, as usual.

- Tell us how it happened, because you know, captain, that the judge must listen to both sides.

- Very simple and natural: three of my best soldiers, whose names are known to your Majesty, and whose loyalty has been appreciated by you more than once, because they put service to their king above everything else in the world, I can say this in the affirmative; so three of my soldiers, I say, Athos, Porthos and Aramis, with one young Gascon whom I recommended to them, conspired to go for a walk that very morning, I think to Saint-Germain. They gathered, as agreed, at the monastery of the Carmelites, but Messrs. Jussac, Kaguzak, Bikara and two more guardsmen, having come there in such a large company, probably not without a bad intention contrary to the decrees, upset everything.

- A! I guess, said the king: "They probably came there themselves to fight."

“I do not blame them, sir, but I leave it to Your Majesty to judge why five armed men could go to such a secluded place as the vicinity of the Carmelite Monastery.

“Yes, you are right, de Treville, you are right.

“But when they saw my musketeers, they changed their minds; the common enmity of the two regiments made them forget their personal feuds, for your Majesty knows that the royal musketeers, loyal to one king, are natural enemies of the guards serving the cardinal.

- Yes, de Treville, yes, said the king sadly, I assure you that it is a great pity to see two parties in France, two heads in the kingdom; but there will be an end to all this, de Treville, there will certainly be. So you say that the guards were looking for a quarrel with the musketeers.

“I say that this was probably the case, but I cannot vouch for it, sir. You know how difficult it is sometimes to find out the truth, and you need to have that amazing instinct for which Louis XIII was given the nickname just.

“Yes, you are right, de Treville, but your Musketeers were not alone, there was a youth with them.

“Yes, sir, and one wounded, so that the three royal musketeers, one of whom was wounded, and another boy, not only did not yield to five of the cardinal's most terrible guards, but they also put four of them in place.

- But this is a victory! said the king joyfully, - this is a complete victory!

- Yes, sir, as full as at the Xie bridge.

- Four, including one wounded, the other a boy, you say?

- He can hardly be called a young man; yet he behaved so admirably on this occasion that I dare recommend him to your Majesty.

- What's his name?

- D'Artanyan. This is the son of an old friend of mine; the son of a man who fought in a guerrilla war with the late king, your parent.

- You say that this young man behaved well? Tell me this, de Treville, you know that I love stories of wars and battles.

And the king proudly twirled his mustache.

- Sovereign, said de Treville, - d'Artagnan, as I said, is almost a boy, and since he has no honor to be a Musketeer, he was in the civilian dress of Mr. Cardinal's Guardsman, seeing his youth and knowing that he does not belong to the number of musketeers, they offered him to retire before they attack.

“It is clear from this, de Treville,” said the king, “that they were the first to attack.

- Quite rightly, sir; there is no doubt about that. So they invited him to leave; but he replied that he was a musketeer at heart and devoted to your majesty, and therefore would remain with the musketeers.

“A brave young man,” said the king.

“Indeed, he stayed with them, and your Majesty acquired a rare fighter in him, because the terrible blow inflicted on Jussac and so much angered the cardinal was his business.

- So he hurt Jussac? said the king, - he, child! It is impossible, de Treville.

“It was exactly as I had the honor to convey to your Majesty.

- Jussac, one of the first fighters of the kingdom?

“So, sir, he has found a worthy rival for himself.

“I want to see this young man, de Treville, I want to see him, and if there is anything we can do for him, we’ll take care of it.”

- When will your Majesty accept it?

- Tomorrow, at 12 o'clock, de Treville.

- Will you order me to bring him alone?

- No, bring all four. I want to thank all of them; loyal people are rare, de Treville, and loyalty must be rewarded.

- At 12 o'clock, sir, we will be at the Louvre.

“Oh yes, up the small stairs, de Treville up the small ones. It is not necessary for the cardinal to know.

- Yes, sir.

- You understand, de Treville, the decree is still a decree; after all, fighting is forbidden.

- But this meeting, sir, does not at all fit the usual conditions of a duel, it was just a fight, because the cardinal's guards were five against my three musketeers and d'Artagnan.

“That is fair,” said the king, “but all the same, de Treville, come up the little stairs.

Treville smiled. But for him it was already enough that he had raised this child king against his leader. He bowed respectfully to the king, and with his usual amiability bade him farewell.

That same evening, the three Musketeers were advised of the honor awaiting them. They had known the king for a long time, and therefore this news did not delight them, but d'Artagnan, with his Gascon imagination, already saw his future happiness in that and spent the night in golden dreams. At 8 o'clock in the morning he was already at Athos.

D'Artagnan found the musketeer completely dressed to go out of the yard.

Since the king had an appointment at 12 o'clock, they agreed with Porthos and Aramis to go play ball in a gambling house not far from the stables of Luxembourg. Athos invited D'Artagnan with him, who, despite the fact that he did not know this game and had never played it, accepted the offer, not knowing what to do from ten to twelve o'clock.

The other two Musketeers were already there and played together. Athos, very dexterous in all bodily exercises, stood with d'Artagnan on the other side; and the game began. But at the first movement, Athos, despite the fact that he played with his left hand, felt that his wound was still too fresh to allow him to do such an exercise. So D'Artagnan was left alone, and when he announced that, due to his awkwardness, he could not play the game correctly, they continued only tossing the ball, not counting the winnings. But once the ball, launched by Porthos' Herculean hand, flew so close to d'Artagnan's face that he thought that if the ball had hit him, his audience would probably be lost, because in all likelihood it would have been impossible for him to introduce himself to the king ... And since he imagined that his whole future depended on this performance, he politely bowed to Porthos and Aramis, announcing that he would accept the game when he learned to play no worse than them, and, stepping aside, sat down on the gallery.

Unfortunately for d'Artagnan, among the spectators was one of the cardinal's guards, who, flushed by the defeat of his comrades that had happened the day before, vowed to avenge them on the first occasion. He found that this case presented itself and, turning to a neighbor, said:

“No wonder this young man got scared of the ball; probably the Musketeers' apprentice.

D'Artagnan looked around as if he had been stung by a snake, and looked intently at the guardsman who had expressed this audacious assumption.

- Yes, he said, twisting his mustache, - look at me, my child, as much as you like, I expressed what I think.

- And as what you said is too clear and does not require an explanation, then I will ask you to follow me, said d'Artagnan quietly.

- When? asked the guard in the same mocking tone.

“Wouldn't you like it now.

“You no doubt know who I am?

“I don’t know you at all, and I don’t worry about it at all.”

- And in vain: if you knew my name, maybe you would not be in such a hurry.

- What is your name?

- Bernage, at your service.

- Well, Mr. Bernage, said d'Artagnan calmly, - I will wait for you at the gate.

- Go, I will come after you.

- Take your time so that you don't notice that we are leaving together; you understand that we don't need a lot of people for our lesson.

- Well, answered the guardsman, surprised that his name did not make an impression on the young man.

Indeed, the name of Bernage was known to everyone, except, perhaps, one D'Artagnan, because he most often took part in the daily fights, which no decrees of the king and cardinal could stop.

Porthos and Aramis were so busy with the game, and Athos looked at them with such attention that they did not notice when their young companion left.

As agreed, d'Artagnan stopped at the gate, where, a minute later, the guardsman came.

Since d'Artagnan had no time to waste, because the presentation to the king was scheduled at 12 o'clock, he looked around and, seeing that there was no one on the street, said to his opponent:

“Although your name is Bernage, you are still happy that you are dealing only with the Musketeers' apprentice; however, rest assured, I will use all possible diligence. Get down to business!

- But, said the guard, - it seems to me that this place is inconvenient, it would be much better behind the Abbey of Saint-Germain or in Pre-au-Clerk.

- This is fair, answered d'Artagnan, - but unfortunately I have no time, I have to be on a date at exactly 12 o'clock. For the cause, my dear sir, for the cause!

Bernage was not the kind of person to make him repeat such an invitation twice. At the same moment the sword glittered in his hand and he rushed at the enemy, whom he hoped to frighten, counting on his youth.

But D'Artagnan had taken a good lesson the day before and, encouraged by the recent victory and proud of the forthcoming mercy, he decided not to retreat a single step; both swords were in action right up to the hilt, but as d'Artagnan held firmly in place, his opponent had to retreat. D'Artagnan, taking advantage of this movement of Bernage, rushed at him and wounded him in the shoulder, then retreated in turn and raised his sword, but Bernage shouted to him that it meant nothing and, stepping on him with blindness, stumbled right into his sword ... However, as he did not fall and did not recognize himself defeated, but only retreated to the house of Tremouille, where one of his relatives served, then d'Artagnan, not knowing how heavy the last wound of his opponent was, stepped on him with liveliness and probably would have done away with with the third blow, but at this time the noise in the street began to be heard in the gambling house and two friends of the guardsman, who noticed how he exchanged words with d'Artagnan, and then left, rushed with swords in their hands and attacked the winner.

Athos, Porthos and Aramis went out in turn and freed their young comrade from the two guards who were pressing him.

At that moment Bernage fell, and as there were only two against four of the guards, they began to shout: "Here Tremul!" At this cry, all those who were in the house ran out, rushed at four comrades, who also began to shout: "here, musketeers!"

The crowd always came running willingly to this cry; everyone knew that the Musketeers were enemies of the Cardinal and loved them for their hatred of him. Therefore, the guardsmen of companies other than those belonging to the Red Duke, as Aramis called him, usually sided with the royal musketeers in quarrels of this kind. Of the three guardsmen of the company of Deessard who passed by, two immediately gave help to four of their comrades, while the third ran to de Treville's hotel shouting: "Here, Musketeers, here!"

At the Hotel de Treville there were, as usual, a multitude of Musketeers, who ran to the aid of their comrades; there was a terrible confusion, but the advantage was on the side of the musketeers; the cardinal's guards and the people of Tremouille's house retreated into the house and locked the gates just as their enemies were about to invade after them. As for the wounded man, he was immediately transferred to the hotel, in a very bad situation.

The irritation of the musketeers and their accomplices reached the highest degree, so that they were already beginning to speculate about whether to set fire to the house in order to punish the people of Tremouille for their daring foray against the royal musketeers. This proposal was accepted with enthusiasm, but fortunately 11 o'clock struck. D'Artagnan and his comrades remembered the presentation to the king, and not wanting such a wonderful enterprise to be fulfilled without them, they calmed the crowd, contented themselves with throwing a few stones at the gate, but they resisted; then everyone got tired; moreover, the main instigators of the enterprise had already separated from the crowd and went to the house of de Treville, who already knew about this incident and was expecting them.

- Rather to the Louvre, he said, - to the Louvre, not wasting a minute, and we will try to see the king before the cardinal has time to notify him of what happened; we will tell him about it as a consequence of yesterday and both things will get away with it.

De Treville, accompanied by four young men, went to the Louvre; but to the surprise of the captain of the musketeers, he was told that the king had gone hunting in the forest of Saint-Germain.

De Treville made him repeat the news to himself twice, and those who accompanied him saw his face darken with each time.

“Did His Majesty intend to go on this hunt yesterday?” he asked.

- No, Your Excellency, answered the valet, - this morning the Chief Jägermeister informed him that a deer had been driven on purpose for him that night. At first he replied that he would not go, but then he could not resist the pleasure of being on this hunt, and after dinner he set off.

- Did the king see the cardinal? asked de Treville.

“In all likelihood, the valet replied,“ because I saw the cardinal's carriage this morning and was told that he was going to Saint-Germain.

“We have been warned,” said de Treville. - Gentlemen, I will see the king tonight; as for you, I advise you not to go to him.

The advice was very prudent, and, moreover, it was given by a man who knew the king too well, and therefore the young people did not contradict him. De Treville invited them to return home and await his notification.

Returning to his hotel, de Treville thought that before complaining to the king, he needed to know well what was the matter. He sent a servant to Tremul with a letter in which he asked him to expel from himself the wounded cardinal's guard and to reprimand his men for their audacious foray against the Musketeers. But la Tremoul, who was informed about everything by his groom, a relative of Bernage, replied that neither de Treville nor his musketeers had anything to complain about, and that, on the contrary, he had the right to complain, because the musketeers attacked his men and intended to set fire to his house. But how could this dispute drag on and each of them stubbornly adhered to his opinion, then de Treville came up with a way to end it as soon as possible: he decided to go to la Tremouille himself.

Coming to him, he ordered to report on himself.

The two nobles bowed politely to each other, for although there was no friendship between them, at least there was mutual respect. Both were honest and kind people, and as a Protestant la Tremoul, who rarely saw the king, did not belong to any party, in public relations he was without any prejudices. Despite the fact that this time his reception was at least polite, but colder than usual.

- My dear sir, said de Treville, - each of us considers himself entitled to complain about the other, and I came myself to clarify this matter together.

Very willingly, replied la Tremoule, “but I warn you that I have detailed information, and that your musketeers are to blame.

You are so fair and prudent, said de Treville, that you will probably accept the offer that I intend to make to you.

- Speak, I'm listening.

- In what position is Bernage, a relative of your groom?

- Very bad, except for a wound in the arm, which is not dangerous, he is still wounded in a lung through and through, so the doctor does not promise anything good.

- But the wounded man in the memory?

- Absolutely.

- He says?

- Although with difficulty, but speaks.

- Let us go to him and ask him in the name of God, before whom, perhaps, he will soon appear, to tell the whole truth; I choose him to be the judge in his own case, and I will believe what he has to say.

La Tremouille thought for a moment, but as it was impossible to make an offer fairer than this, he accepted it.

They entered the room in which the wounded man lay. At the sight of two dignitaries who came to visit him, the patient tried to get up on the bed, but he was too weak, and, exhausted by this effort, he fell almost unconscious.

La Tremouille went up to him and gave him a sniff of the alcohol, which restored his consciousness. Then de Treville, not wanting to be accused of influencing the answers of the big one, asked la Tremouille to make the questions himself.

It happened as de Treville had foreseen. Bernage, being between life and death, did not think to hide the truth and told the two nobles exactly everything as it was.

This was all de Trevillon wanted, wished Bernage a speedy recovery, said goodbye to la Tremoul, returned home and sent at once to tell four friends that he was expecting them for dinner.

At de Treville's, a very good company gathered, which, incidentally, consisted of all the enemies of the cardinal. Therefore, it is understandable that the conversation during the whole dinner was about two defeats inflicted on the cardinal's guards.

All congratulations were addressed to d'Artagnan, who was the hero of these two days; and Athos, Porthos and Aramis fully recognized this honor for him, not only as good comrades, but also as people who often had to hear such congratulations.

At six o'clock de Treville announced that it was time to go to the Louvre; but as the hour of the show, appointed by his majesty, had already passed, instead of going up the small stairs, he and four young people settled down in the hall. The king had not yet returned from the hunt.

The young men waited, intervening in the crowd of courtiers; but not half an hour had passed, when suddenly the doors opened and announced the arrival of His Majesty.

At this report, D'Artagnan felt a tremor all over his body.

The coming minute should, in all likelihood, decide his fate. His eyes, with painful expectation, were directed to the door through which the king was to enter.

Louis XIII entered ahead of everyone; he was in a hunting dress, covered in dust, in large boots and with a whip in his hand. At first glance, d'Artagnan noticed that the king was gloomy. Although this disposition of his majesty was obvious to everyone, this did not prevent the courtiers from meeting him, standing in the aisle: in the royal halls it is better to be in sight during a bad mood than to be completely unnoticed. So the three Musketeers stepped forward. d'Artagnan, on the contrary, stayed behind them; although the king personally knew Athos, Porthos and Aramis, he walked past them, not paying attention to them and not saying a word, as if he had never seen them. Passing de Treville, he glanced at him; but de Treville bore this gaze with such firmness that the king was the first to turn his back. When His Majesty went into his room, Athos said smiling:

- It's a bad thing, today we probably won't get the order.

“Wait here ten minutes,” said de Treville, “and if I don’t come out in ten minutes, then go to my house, for it will be useless to wait any longer.”

The young people waited ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, twenty minutes; and as de Treville did not return, they departed in great anxiety.

De Treville boldly entered the king's office: his majesty was in a very bad mood; he sat in an armchair and tapped the end of his whip on his boot, which did not prevent de Treville from asking him very calmly about his health.

- Bad, sir, bad, answered the king, - I miss you.

It really was one of the worst illnesses of Louis XIII, in these cases he often called someone from the courtiers and, leading him to the window, said: "we will be bored together."

- How! your majesty miss you! said de Treville. - Did you spend your time hunting without pleasure?

- Good fun. Today everything has been reborn, and I really don't know if the game has stopped flying, or the dogs have lost their scent. We chase a deer with ten hunting horns, run after him for six hours, and when he is almost caught, when Saint-Simon was already bringing the horn in his mouth to sound the victory, all of a sudden the whole pack changes direction and rushes at the one-year-old deer. You will see that I will have to give up hunting for animals, as I gave up bird hunting. Ah, I am the unfortunate king, de Treville, I had one gyrfalcon left and he died the day before yesterday.

- Indeed, sir, I understand your despair, this is a great misfortune; but you seem to have plenty of falcons and hawks left.

- And not a single person to teach them; there are no more falcons, and I alone know the art of hunting. After me, everything will be over, they will hunt with traps and traps. If only I had time to teach others! but, alas, the cardinal does not give me a moment of rest, he talks to me about Spain, Austria, England! Oh yes! by the way about the cardinal; I am not pleased with you, de Treville.

De Treville expected this attack. He knew the king well and understood that all these complaints served only as a preface in a kind of excitement to give courage, and that the purpose of all this was precisely the last phrase.

- What have I had the misfortune to displease your Majesty? said de Treville, pretending to be deeply surprised.

- Are you doing your duty properly, my dear sir? continued the king, not directly answering de Treville's question; - what kind of captain of the Musketeers are you, when they kill a man, excite the whole block and want to set fire to Paris, and you do not say a word about it? However, the king continued, I probably hastened to accuse you, no doubt the troublemakers are already in prison and you have come to report to me that their trial is over.

- Sovereign, de Treville replied calmly, - on the contrary, I have come to ask you for judgment.

- Against who? asked the king.

“Against the slanderers,” said de Treville.

- A! here's the news! said the king. “Would you say that your damned three Musketeers and your Bearnai boy didn’t rush like mad at poor Bernage and didn’t beat him up so that he might be dying now.” Would you say that they then did not besiege the hotel of the Duke of La Tremouille and did not want to burn it down, which, however, would not have been a great misfortune in wartime, because this is a nest of Huguenots, but in peacetime it gives a bad example. Tell me, was that all, or not?

- Who wrote this beautiful story for you, sir? de Treville asked calmly.

- Who wrote this story for me? who, if not the one who is awake when I sleep, who works when I amuse myself, who does business inside and outside the kingdom, in France and in Europe!

“Your Majesty, no doubt, talk about God, Skalal de Treville, - because only one God is so much higher than your Majesty.

- No, sir, I'm talking about the support of the state, my only servant, my only friend, about the cardinal.

“The Cardinal is not a Pope, sir.

- What are you trying to say?

- That only the Pope is not wrong, the cardinals can be wrong.

- You want to say that he is deceiving me, that he is cheating on me. So you blame him. Admit it frankly, do you blame him?

- No, sir; but saying that he himself is mistaken, I say that he was told incorrectly; that he hastened to accuse Your Majesty's Musketeers, to whom he is unjust, and that he received information from bad sources.

“The charge was from la Tremouille, from the duke himself. What do you say to that?

- I could answer, sir, that this matter concerns him to such an extent that he cannot be an impartial witness; but on the contrary, sir, I know the Duke as an honest nobleman and will believe him, with only one condition.

- With which?

- That your Majesty will call him and ask yourself, without witnesses, and that I will see your Majesty immediately after the Duke's departure.

- Good! said the king, and will you agree with what la Tremouille says?

- Yes, sir.

- Do you acknowledge his decision?

- Without a doubt.

"And you will submit to the satisfaction he demands?"

- Certainly.

- La Chenet! cried the king, la Chenet!

The trusted valet of Louis XIII, who always stood at the door, entered.

“La Chenet,” said the king, “send right away for la Tremoule, I must speak to him tonight.

- Your Majesty, you give me your word not to see anyone before me after la Tremouille leaves?

- Honestly, with no one.

- So see you tomorrow, sir.

- Till tomorrow.

- What time will your Majesty want?

- Whenever you want.

“But if I come too early, I’m afraid to wake your Majesty.

- Wake me up! Am I dreaming? I do not sleep anymore, sir; I only doze sometimes. Come whenever you want - at seven o'clock; but beware if your musketeers are guilty.

“If my musketeers are to blame, sir, the guilty will be delivered into the hands of your majesty, and they will be dealt with at your command. If it pleases your majesty to order something else, I am ready at your service.

- No no; and rest assured that it is not for nothing that they call me fair. Till tomorrow.

- May God preserve until then, your majesty!

Although the king slept little, de Treville was still less; In the evening he warned the three Musketeers and their comrade to be with him at half past six in the morning. He took them with him, not saying anything positive to them, not promising anything and not hiding from them that their fate, like himself, depended on chance.

When he reached a small staircase, he told them to wait. If the king was still annoyed against them, they could leave without introducing themselves to him; if the king agreed to accept them, then it was only necessary to call them.

In the king's own front hall, de Treville met Chenet, who told him that la Tremouille had not been at home the night before, that he had returned too late to appear at the Louvre, and that he had just arrived and was still with the king.

This circumstance pleased de Treville very much; he was now convinced that no extraneous suggestion could slip between the testimony of la Tremouille and his.

Indeed, less than ten minutes had passed before the door of the royal office opened, the Duke of La Tremoul came out, and, addressing de Treville, said:

- G. de Treville, His Majesty called me to inquire about yesterday's adventure near my house. And he told him the truth, that is, that my people were to blame and that I am ready to apologize to you. Therefore, I ask you to accept my apologies and always consider me one of your friends.

“Duke,” said de Treville, “I was so sure of your justice that I did not want another protector before his majesty besides you. I see that I was not mistaken and thank you for the fact that there is still a person in France about whom I can say without error what I said about you.

“That's good,” said the king, listening to all these courtesies at the door. - Just tell him, de Treville, since he considers himself your friend, that I would also like to be his friend, but that he neglects me, that three years have passed since I have not seen him and I see him only when send for him. Tell him all this for me, because the king cannot say it himself.

- Thank you, sir, thank you, said the duke, - but believe me, your majesty, that they are not the most loyal to you, whom you often see; I am not talking about M. de Treville.

“Ah, Duke, you heard what I said, so much the better,” said the king, going up to the door. A! it is you Treville, where are your musketeers; I told you the day before yesterday to bring them to me, why did you not fulfill this?

“They are downstairs, sir, and with your permission, Chenet will call them here.

- Yes, yes, let them come now; soon eight o'clock, and at nine I am expecting a visitor. Goodbye, Duke, and above all, come. Come in, de Treville.

The Duke bowed and left. When he opened the door, the three Musketeers and D'Artagnan were climbing the stairs.

- Come on, my brave men, said the king, I need to scold you.

The Musketeers came up and bowed; d'Artagnan followed them.

“As it is, continued the king, you four killed seven of the cardinal's guards in two days. This is too much, gentlemen. If this goes on, the cardinal will be compelled to renew his company every three weeks, and I will have to act to the fullest extent of the decrees. I do not say, if by chance one, but seven in two days; I repeat to you, this is too much.

- Therefore, sir, they are sad and with repentance came to ask your Majesty for forgiveness.

- Sad and remorseful! Hm! said the king, - I do not really trust the hypocritical appearance, especially there is one Gascon. Come here.

D'Artanyan, realizing that this courtesy applied to him, approached in despair.

- You say that this is a young man? this is de Treville's child, just a child! And it was he who dealt such a cruel blow to Jussac?

- And two beautiful blows to Bernage.

- Indeed?

“In addition, Athos said that if he had not freed me from Bikar, I probably would not have had the honor of appearing to your Majesty today.

“But this Bearnets is a real demon, de Treville! he said. With his craft, camisoles are incessantly torn and swords break. And Gascons are always poor, aren't they?

- Sovereign, I must say that no gold mines have yet been found in their mountains, although nature should have done this for them, as a reward for the diligence with which they supported the claims of your father king.

- That is, you mean the Gascons made me king, don't you Treville? for I am my father's son. Yes I agree. La Chenet, see if there are forty pistols in my pockets; if you find them, bring them to me. In the meantime, young man, tell us how it was in all conscience.

D'Artanyan told with all the details everything that had happened the day before: how he could not sleep for joy that he would see His Majesty and therefore came to his friends three hours before the audience; how they went to a gambling house together, how Bernage made fun of him for being afraid that the ball would hit him in the face, and how, finally, Bernage almost paid for this ridicule with his life, and la Tremouille with his house, although in nothing it was not my fault.

“That's good, the king said, the duke told me the same thing. Poor cardinal! seven people in two days and from the most beloved; but that's enough, gentlemen, hear! enough, you avenged the street Feru and too, you should be satisfied.

“If your Majesty is pleased,” said de Treville, then so are we.

- Yes, I am pleased, said the king, and taking a handful of gold from Chenet's hands, put it in D'Artagnan's hand. Here is proof that I am satisfied, he said.

Then the pride of the present time was not yet in vogue. The nobleman took money from the hands of the king, not in the least offended by this. So d'Artagnan put forty pistols in his pocket without ceremony and thanked His Majesty.

- Now it's already half past nine, said the king, looking at his watch, go, I told you that I expect a visitor at nine o'clock. Thank you for your dedication. After all, I can count on you, gentlemen, can't I?

“Okay, okay, but stay safe, it’s better, and you will be more useful to me.” De Treville, added the king in an undertone, while they were leaving, since you have no vacancy in the musketeer regiment, and as we decided that you must first be an apprentice to enter this regiment, then place this young man and the company of the Guards of Desessar , your son-in-law. Oh! de Treville, I can imagine what a grimace the cardinal will make: he will be furious, but I don't care, I'm right.

And the king made a sign with his hand to de Treville, who went out and overtook the musketeers who were sharing forty pistols with d'Artagnan.

And the cardinal, as His Majesty said, was really enraged, so enraged that he did not appear for eight days to play with the king, which, however, did not prevent the king from asking him when he met him with the most amiable expression and gentle voice:

- Well, cardinal, how are your poor Bernage and Jussac?

Vii. The home life of the Musketeers

On leaving the Louvre, d'Artagnan consulted with his friends how to use his share of forty pistols; Athos advised him to order a good meal at Pomme de Pins, Porthos to hire a servant, and Aramis to find a decent mistress.

Lunch was ordered the same day and a servant served at the table. Lunch was ordered by Athos, the servant was found by Porthos. It was the Picardian whom the glorious Musketeer had found for this occasion on the same day, on the Pont de la Tournelle, while he spat into the water, and admired the circles that came from him. Porthos claimed that this exercise served as proof of a reasonable and observant mind and took it without any other recommendation. The majestic appearance of Porthos seduced Planchet, that was the name of the Picardian, who believed he was hired for this nobleman; he was a little disappointed when he learned that this place was already occupied by his brother Musqueton, and when Porthos announced to him that his household, although large, did not allow him to have two servants, and that he would have to serve d'Artagnan. However, when he served at the dinner given by his master, and saw how he took out a handful of gold for reckoning, he already thought that he would be happy, and thanked heaven for having got to such a Croesus; he remained with this opinion until the end of the feast, the remnants of which he rewarded himself for long abstinence. But Planchet's dreams were scattered in the evening when he made the master's bed. The apartment consisted only of an entrance hall and a bedroom, which had one bed. Planchet lay down in the antechamber on a blanket taken from d'Artagnan's bed, who had gone on without a blanket ever since. Athos also had a servant named Grimaud, whom he had taught to serve himself in a very special way. This worthy gentleman was very silent. We are, of course, talking about Athos. During the five or six years of the most sincere friendship with him, Porthos and Aramis often saw him smile, but they never heard him laugh out loud. His words were short and expressive, without any embellishment. His conversation contained only the deed, beating all sorts of episodes.

End of introductory snippet.

Great

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from neonila54 27.01.2020 20:50

Grade 1 out of 5 stars from levchenko-kylik 21.11.2018 23:01

I dare to assure that there is no less tragedy than romance, and the latter is exactly as much as is required.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Name off 11/27/2017 18:38

A book for all time, but less romance would be better

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Anonymous 02.11.2017 13:23

Book for real horsemen

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Man 04.10.2017 23:38

I didn’t understand some of the names of the word, but so it’s okay

Grade 4 out of 5 stars from Arina 08.24.2017 08:57

Very interesting, captivating plot!

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Reader 08/16/2017 12:15 PM

An unconditional masterpiece! Adventure, intrigue and sparkling humor. Classics of the genre

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from NataGradiva 07.08.2017 22:08

THE BEST book I've read!
And the film is a masterpiece! and the book is a masterpiece!

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Guest 06.02.2017 15:33

And the eloquence of Athos!

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Guest 06.02.2017 15:31

I read a wonderful book 2 times a year ... And I start 3 times! Most of all I was struck by the nobility of Athos and the dexterity of Dartanyan.

Marta_kar 02/06/2017 15:28

I dare to assure that the book is not only for adolescents, if you will, it is much more universal than you might imagine.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Guest 08/06/2016 12:16 PM

A wonderful book, just for adolescence, children need to be told about friendship, loyalty, honor, love, as well as that there is a place in life for betrayal, treachery, intrigue and so on.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Natalia 20.07.2016 20:40

It would be interesting to find out from comrade hamster "and what kind of books would not have been adjusted by the author (any) to the plot development convenient for him (the author) ??! Not correct criticism of the work (s) of Maitre Dumas. This is in the first place ... Secondly , it is not felt that the author has a competent opinion about what the nature of the time is, and therefore the characterization of Mr. In conclusion, I would like to add, the concept of the Middle Ages does not include only knights in horned helmets ☝, but includes the history of Europe up to a) the emergence of a new type of industrial economic activity - capitalist relations (Great English bourgeois revolution) and b) the formation of qualitatively new state relations, (creating diplomacy in the modern sense of the word, etc.), pushing the old (Catholic) world into the background (as a result of the Thirty Years' War) ... spine indicates the end of the Middle Ages approx. 1650 (narration time 1625-28). So that's it, boy.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Guest 05/17/2016 19:11

“once again I consider it necessary to remind” - in my (once again - personal opinion) Dumas's books do not create any “psychological and social atmosphere”. They are superficial and tailored to the development of an adventure plot convenient for the author, not burdened with the "character of that time" in the slightest degree. I also remind you that the times of the 3 Musketeers have nothing to do with the Middle Ages (just in case). And as an adventure novel - yes, it reads perfectly - dynamics, richness of events, everything is fully present.
Thank you for the discussion, I in no way pretend to be "the ultimate truth", I just express my personal opinion. But this comment will already be the last - it is already a bit too much.

Grade 4 out of 5 stars from hamster 17.05.2016 16:49

I consider it necessary to remind once again that a work of fiction, even on a historical theme, does not necessarily have to present this very story; the advantage of such works is to convey the nature of the time in question, not to mention the merits of the plot itself. This is a story served to please the plot, but conveying the real world of a medieval man, his relationships, etc., which no one has done in a similar topic. It is better to distort real circumstances, but create rich characters through which to recreate the real psychosocial situation of that time, not afraid to seem boring than trying to follow the letter of the story and create a schematic plot that is not filled with its own atmosphere. In a work of fiction, the main role is played by the sharpness and fullness of the plot, its complexity, dynamics (to be honest, the novel surpasses Crime and Punishment, Don Quixote, Gargantua and Pantagruel, etc.), psychological the reconciliation of the characters (unprecedented in the genre), the system of dialogues (by this indicator * The Musketeers * surpass many works of the so-called serious nature - Hugo, Dickens, Turgenev and many others), and not the historical accuracy (often controversial and ambiguous). As you can see, it is too bold to call such a work easy, and even more so to equate it with tabloid literature, even by such grandees as Scott, Boussinard, Mein Reid. their own atmosphere, living their own world, and where you will not find a single inconsistency, not a single contradiction in the plot created by the author.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Guest 05/17/2016 15:19

Thanks for the justification - another point of view was always interesting. Although I still continue to consider Dumas an easy "reading" that has nothing to do with history, except for mentioning names and "pulling the ears" of some events. Dumas's novels practically have nothing to do with historical reality, the logic of the development of historical events is "turned inside out" as it is convenient for the plot, with complete disregard for the fact that the causes or consequences (in different ways) of certain events (not only in 3 Musketeers, but also in other novels) actually (if you read historical sources, not Dumas) occurred or developed with "exactly the opposite."
Again, this is a personal point of view. I fully admit that others really see something more real in Dumas's novels - why not.

Grade 4 out of 5 stars from hamster 17.05.2016 09:58

And yes, I think the explanation made to the book by Mr. name off on March 28 of this year is fair, that's what it means to read carefully, and does not treat this work of art as reading of an uncomplicated nature. My deepest bow.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Guest 16.05.2016 19:42

And no one claims that the work of Mr. Dumas is historical annals, this is a serious psychological work, artistically designed on this historical theme. And it is serious because it combines a complex layout of the material (multiplot lines, a plot within a plot) with a fundamental study of psychological portraits of heroes to the smallest detail, including minor characters, which is not just a descriptive element of characters (when the author simply puts the reader in front of the fact, endowing certain abilities of their heroes by default), and on a specific plot material confirming certain qualities of heroes (so to speak in action), including both thoughtful dialogues and action. The author very accurately conveyed the atmosphere of the 17th century, the psychology of the heroes of this particular time, reflected in the demeanor, dialogues, etiquette, while the work remains purely adventure with a rapidly developing plot, unprecedented in 1844, and even to our time, given the number of events events for a fraction of the time. In addition, do not forget that the book "The Three Musketeers" reflects the struggle of the old feudal immunity for the right to dispose of the fate of the individual with the emerging new state relations (bureaucracy, the goal justifies the middle, etc.), relations where the voice of an honest man (according to de Treville) ALREADY does not mean anything, his place was taken by a piece of paper signed by a high-ranking official, i.e. the book reflects the struggle of the individual with state absolutism (that is, the system), which in turn echoed with the time of the author, the time of writing the book, the time when the Great French Revolution thundered, when for French society, the revolutionary ideals of individual freedom and the struggle against absolutism were topical. 📖

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Guest 16.05.2016 19:19

Well, Dumas's books cannot be called serious historical narratives, they may well be considered as light entertaining "reading", since they sin with inaccuracies, and in fact are adventure novels with a slight touch of "historicity". If the opinion is "no, this is serious" - the arguments "in the studio."

Grade 4 out of 5 stars from hamster 16.05.2016 13:27

Modern bestsellers, or books like Bussenar, Mine Reed, etc. can be light entertainment reading. but not The Three Musketeers.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from Guest 16.05.2016 13:08

Easy entertaining reading. I read it as a child, even reread it.

Grade 4 out of 5 stars from martyn.anna 15.05.2016 20:17

The best film adaptation, in my opinion, is the original of 1921, unlike others, this film more or less conveys the atmosphere of the 17th century, duelists, for example, fight hard with swords without trying to kick each other, a thing unworthy for a nobleman of medieval France, well and of course the acting.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from name off 03/28/2016 5:06 PM

In the chapter "The Mousetrap in the 17th century" in the 11th paragraph the following is written "In the evening, the day after the arrest of the unfortunate Bonacieux ...", although it would be more correct "In the evening, on the same day, after the arrest of the unfortunate Bonacieux ...", since in the first case, there is confusion in the further plot, for example. it is impossible to explain how the confrontation between Athos and the notorious Bonacieux took place in the Bastille the morning after the grocer's arrest, since Athos should only be arrested on the evening of the day when the confrontation took place. And, conversely, everything converges if we assume the second case. In addition, this adjustment explains the sequence of actions after the escape of Madame Bonacieux from the arrest of Rochefort (about 5 p.m.), her arrival home and a second arrest (about 9 p.m.), followed by the intervention of D "Artagnan and the arrest of Athos within one day (more precisely, one in the evening), while the expression "In the evening, the next day ...) does not explain where Madame Bonacieux was after the first arrest for such a long time, i.e. from the evening of the previous day (5 o'clock) until the evening of the next day (about 9 o'clock).
Such a gross mistake was made either by the author, or, most likely, by the translators, thus. which has become a textbook.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from name off 03/28/2016 04:49 PM

The book in Russian translation has a number of errors in b. h rude!

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from name off 03/28/2016 16:07

The book in Russian translation has a number of errors, incl. rude!

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from name off 03/28/2016 16:05

One of my favorite books! This book is a masterpiece!

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from kroleatina-999 28.02.2016 21:13

Boring...

Grade 3 out of 5 stars from rafaafar 31.01.2016 17:34

This book and film, too, is for a certain age.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from trikotagservis 25.01.2016 11:02

I don’t know ... but in general, how long can it take to read this book ...

Grade 4 out of 5 stars from lady gaga 01/23/2016 17:31

I love musketeers.

Grade 5 out of 5 stars from modus_2005 06.01.2016 02:16