 CHAPTER XVIII of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume III, Part I by Alexander Dumas, translated by William Robson. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. In which D'Artagnan seeks porthos, and only finds Muscaton. When D'Artagnan had perfectly convinced himself that the absence of the vicar General Der Blay was real, and that his friend was not to be found at Melloun or in its vicinity, he left Bézan without regret, cast an ill-natured glance at the magnificent Chateau de Vaux, which was beginning to shine with that splendour which brought on its ruin, and compressing his lips like a man full of mistrust and suspicion, he put spurs to his pied horse, saying, Well, well, I have still Pierre Font left, and there I shall find the best man and the best-filled coffer, and that is all I want, for I have an idea of my own. We will spare our readers the prosaic incidents of D'Artagnan's journey, which terminated on the morning of the third day within sight of Pierre Font. D'Artagnan came by the way of Nantoye, Le Hadouan, and Crepy. At a distance he perceived the castle of Louis-Avoilan, which, having become part of the crown domain, was kept by an old concierge. This was one of those marvellous manners of the Middle Ages, with walls twenty feet in thickness and a hundred in height. D'Artagnan rode slowly past its walls, measured its towers with his eye, and descended into the valley. From afar he looked down upon the chateau of Portos, situated on the shores of a small lake, and contiguous to a magnificent forest. It was the same place we have already had the honour of describing to our readers we shall therefore satisfy ourselves with naming it. The first thing D'Artagnan perceived after the fine trees, the May sun, gilding the sides of the green hills, the long rows of feather-topped trees which stretched out towards Campania, was a large rolling box, pushed forward by two servants and dragged by two others. In this box there was an enormous green and gold thing, which went along the smiling glades of the park, thus dragged and pushed. This thing at a distance could not be distinguished, and signified absolutely nothing. Nearer it was a hog's head muffled in gold-bound green cloth. When close it was a man, or rather a poussa, the interior extremity of whom spreading over the interior of the box entirely filled it. When still closer the man was Muscaton, Muscaton, with grey hair and a face as red as punchin'elos. Oh, do! cried D'Artagnan. Why, that's my dear Mr. Muscaton. Ah! cried the fat man. Oh, what happiness! What joy! There's Mr. D'Artagnan. Stop you rascals! These last words were addressed to the lackeys who pushed and dragged him. The box stopped, and the four lackeys with a precision quite military took off their laced hats and ranged themselves behind it. Oh, Monsieur D'Artagnan! said Muscaton. Why can I not embrace your knees? But I have become impotent as you see. Dame, my dear Muscaton, it is age. No, Monsieur, it is not age. It is infirmities. Troubles. Troubles? You, Muscaton, said D'Artagnan making the tour of the box, are you out of your mind, my dear friend? Thank God you are as hearty as a 300-year-old oak. Ah! but my legs, Monsieur, my legs! groaned the faithful servant. What's the matter with your legs? Oh! they will no longer bear me. Ha! the ungrateful things, and yet you feed them well, Muscaton, apparently. Alas, yes, they can reproach me with nothing in that respect, said Muscaton with a sigh. I have always done what I could for my poor body. I am not selfish. And Muscaton sighed afresh. I wonder whether Muscaton wants to be a baron, too, as he sighs after that fashion, thought D'Artagnan. Monde, Monsieur, said Muscaton, as if rousing himself from a painful reverie. How happy Monsignor will be that you have thought of him! Kind porthos, cried D'Artagnan. I am anxious to embrace him. Oh! said Muscaton, much affected. I shall certainly write to him. What? cried D'Artagnan. You will write to him? This very day I shall not delay it an hour. Is he not here, then? No, Monsieur. But he is near at hand. Is he far off? Oh! can I tell, Monsieur? Can I tell? More dear! cried the musketeer, stamping with his foot. I am unfortunate. Porthos, such a stay at home. Monsieur, there is not a more sedentary man than Monsignor, but... But what? When a friend presses you. A friend? Doubtless, the worthy Monsieur de Blay. What? has Aramis pressed Porthos? This is how the thing happened, Monsieur D'Artagnan. Monsieur de Blay wrote to Monsignor. Indeed. A letter, Monsieur, such a pressing letter that it threw us all into a bustle. Tell me all about it, my dear friend, said D'Artagnan, but remove these people a little further off first. Musketon shouted, Fall back, you fellows! With such powerful lungs that the breath, without the words, would have been sufficient to disperse the four lackeys. D'Artagnan seated himself on the shaft of the box and opened his ears. Monsieur, said Musketon, Monsignor then received a letter from the Sherlock vicar general de Blay, eight or nine days ago. It was the day of the rustic pleasures, yes. It must have been Wednesday. What do you mean? said D'Artagnan, the day of rustic pleasures. Yes, Monsieur, we have so many pleasures to take in this delightful country, that we were encumbered by them, so much so, that we have been forced to regulate the distribution of them. How easily do I recognize Porthos' love of order in that. Now, that idea would never have occurred to me, but then I am not encumbered with pleasures. We were, though, said Musketon. And how did you regulate the matter? Let me know, said D'Artagnan. It is rather long, Monsieur. Never mind. We have plenty of time, and you speak so well, my dear Musketon, that it is really a pleasure to hear you. It is true, said Musketon, with a sigh of satisfaction, which emanated evidently from the justice which had been rendered him. It is true. I have made great progress in the company of Monsignor. I am waiting for the distribution of the pleasures, Musketon, and with impatience. I want to know if I have arrived on a lucky day. Oh, Monsieur D'Artagnan, said Musketon, in a melancholy tone. Since Monsignor's departure, all the pleasures have gone too. Well, my dear Musketon, refresh your memory. With what day shall I begin? Pardon, begin with Sunday. That is the Lord's day. Sunday, Monsieur? Yes? Sunday's pleasures are religious. Monsignor goes to Mass, makes the bread offering, and perhaps discourses and instructions made to him by his almanor and ordinary. That is not very amusing. But we expect a carmelite from Paris, who will do the duty of our almanry, and who, we are assured, speaks very well, which will keep us awake, whereas our present almanor always sends us to sleep. These are Sunday religious pleasures, on Monday worldly pleasures. Ha, ha, said D'Artagnan. What do you mean by that? Let us have a glimpse at your worldly pleasures. Monsieur, on Monday we go into the world, we pay and receive visits, we play on the lute, we dance, we make verses, and burn a little incense in honour of the ladies. Peste, that is the height of gallantry, said the musketeer, who is obliged to call to his aid all the strength of his facial muscles to suppress an enormous inclination to laugh. Tuesday, learned pleasures. Good, cried D'Artagnan. What are they? Detail them, my dear musketon. Monseigneur has bought a sphere or globe, which I shall show you. It fills all the perimeter of the Great Tower, except a gallery which he has built over the sphere. There are little strings and brass wires to which the sun and moon are hooked. It all turns and that is very beautiful. Monseigneur points out to me seas and distant countries. We don't intend to visit them, but it is very interesting. Interesting. Yes, that's the word, repeated D'Artagnan, and Wednesday. Rustic pleasures. As I have had the honour to tell you, Mr. Le Chavrier, we look over Monseigneur's sheep and goats. We make the shepherd's dance to pipes and reeds, as is written in a book Monseigneur has in his library, which is called Berserries. The author died about a month ago. Mr. Rakan, perhaps, said D'Artagnan. Yes, that was his name, Mr. Rakan. But that is not all. We angle in the little canal. After which we dine, crowned with flowers. That is Wednesday. Peste, said D'Artagnan. You don't divide your pleasures badly. And Thursday, what can be left for poor Thursday? It is not very unfortunate, Monseigneur, said Muscaton, smiling. Thursday, Olympian pleasures. Ah, Monseigneur, that is superb. We get together all Monseigneur's young vessels, and we make them throw the disc, wrestle, and run races. Monseigneur can't run now. No more can I. But Monseigneur throws the disc as nobody else can throw it, and when he does, deal a blow. Oh, that proves a misfortune. How so? Yes, Monseigneur, we were obliged to renounce the sestus. He cracked heads, he broke jaws, beat in ribs. It was charming sport, but nobody was willing to play with him. Then his wrist. Oh, Monseigneur, firmer than ever, Monseigneur gets a trifle weaker in his legs. He confesses that himself, but his strength has all taken refuge in his arms. So that. So that he can knock down bullocks, as he used formerly. Mr. Better than that, he beats in walls. Lately, after having supped with one of our farmers, you know how popular and kind Monseigneur is. After supper has a joke, he struck the wall with a blow. The wall crumbled away beneath his hand. The roof fell in, and three men and an old woman were stifled. Good God, Muscatan. And your master? Oh, Monseigneur, a little skin was rubbed off his head. We bathed the wounds with some water, which the monks gave us. But there was nothing the matter with his hand. Nothing? No, nothing, monsieur. Deuce, take the Olympic pleasures. They must cost your master too dear for widows and orphans. They all had pensions, monsieur. A tenth of Monseigneur's revenue was spent in that way. Then pass on to Friday, said D'Artagnan. Friday, noble and warlike pleasures. We hunt, we fence, we dress falcons into brake horses. Then Saturday is the day for intellectual pleasures. We adorn our minds, we look at Monseigneur's pictures and statues. We write even and trace plans. And then we fire Monseigneur's cannon. You draw plans and fire cannon? Yes, monsieur. Why, my friend, said D'Artagnan, monsieur de Valon in truth possesses the most subtle and amiable mind that I know. But there is one kind of pleasure you have forgotten, it appears to me. What is that, monsieur? asked Muscatan with anxiety. The material pleasures. Muscatan coloured. What do you mean by that, monsieur? said he, casting down his eyes. I mean the table. Good wine. Evenings occupied and passing the bottle. Ah, monsieur, we don't reckon those pleasures. We practice them every day. My brave Muscatan, resumed D'Artagnan. Pardon me, but I was so absorbed in your charming recital that I have forgotten the principal object of our conversation, which was to learn what monsieur Levaquere General d'Arblay could have to write your master about. That is true, monsieur, said Muscatan. The pleasures have misled us. Well, monsieur, this is the whole affair. I am all attention, Muscatan. On Wednesday. The day of the rustic pleasures. Yes. A letter arrived. He received it from my hands. I had recognised the writing. Well? Monsieur Redditan cried out. Quick, my horses, my arms. Oh, good lord. Then it was for some dual, said D'Artagnan. No, monsieur, there were only these words. Dear portholes, set out if you would wish to arrive before the equinox. I expect you. More due, said D'Artagnan thoughtfully. That was pressing, apparently. I think so. Therefore, continued Muscatan, Monsignor set out the very same day with his secretary, in order to endeavour to arrive in time. And did he arrive in time? I hope so. Monsignor, who is hasty, as you know, monsieur, repeated incessantly. What can this mean? The equinox. Never mind. A fellow must be well-mounted to arrive before I do. And you think portholes will have arrived first, do you? asked D'Artagnan. I am sure of it. This equinox, however witchy may be, has certainly no horses so good as Monsignor's. D'Artagnan repressed his inclination to laugh, because the brevity of Aramis's letter gave rise to reflection. He followed Muscatan, or rather Muscatan's chariot to the castle. He sat down to a sumptuous table, of which they did him the honours as to a king. But he could draw nothing from Muscatan. The faithful servant seemed to shed tears at will, but that was all. D'Artagnan, after a night past in an excellent bed, reflected much upon the meaning of Aramis's letter, puzzled himself as to the relation of the equinox with the affairs of portholes, and being unable to make anything out, unless it concerned some amour of the bishops, for which it was necessary that the days and nights should be equal. D'Artagnan left Pierre Fond as he had left Malune, as he had left the Chateau of the Compte de la Faire. It was not, however, without a melancholy which might, in good soothe, pass for one of the most dismal of D'Artagnan's moods. His head cast down, his eyes fixed, he suffered his legs to hang on each side of his horse, and said to himself, in that vague sort of reverie which ascends sometimes to the sublimest eloquence, no more friends, no more future, no more anything. My energies are broken, like the bonds of our ancient friendship. Oh, old age is coming, cold and inexorable. It envelops in its funereal crepe, all that was brilliant, all that was embalming in my youth. Then it throws that sweet berth in on its shoulders, and carries it away with the rest into the fathomless gulf of death. A shudder crept through the heart of the Gascon, so brave and so strong against all the misfortunes of life, and during some moments the clouds appeared black to him, the earth slippery and full of pits as that of cemeteries. Where am I going? said he to himself. What am I going to do, alone, quite alone, without family, without friends? Baa! cried he all at once, and he clapped spurs to his horse, who having found nothing melancholy in the heavy oats of Pierre Faune, profited by this permission to show his gaiety in a gallop which absorbed two leagues. Two Paris! said D'Artagnan to himself, and on the morrow he alighted in Paris. He had devoted six days to this journey. End of Chapter 18, Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia Chapter 19 of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume 3, Part 1 by Alexandre Dumas, translated by William Robson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. What D'Artagnan went to Paris for? The lieutenant dismounted before a shop in the rue de Lombard, at the sign of the Piant d'Or, a man of good appearance wearing a white apron and stroking his grey mustache with a large hand, uttered a cry of joy on perceiving the piet horse. Monsieur le Chevalier! said he. Ah! is that you? Bonjour, Planchet! replied D'Artagnan, stooping to enter the shop. Quick! somebody! cried Planchet, till like after Monsieur D'Artagnan's horse, somebody to get his room, somebody to prepare his supper. Thanks, Planchet! Good day, my children! said D'Artagnan to the eager boys. Allow me to send off this coffee, this tree-acle, and these raisins! said Planchet. They are for the storeroom of Monsieur le Surintendant. Send them off, send them off! That is only the affair of a moment, then we shall supp! Arrange it that we may supp alone. I want to speak to you. Planchet looked at his old master in a significant manner. Oh, don't be uneasy. It is nothing unpleasant, said D'Artagnan. So much the better! So much the better! And Planchet breathed freely again, whilst D'Artagnan seated himself quietly down in the shop, upon a bale of corks, and made a survey of the premises. The shop was well stocked. There was a mingled perfume of ginger, cinnamon, and ground pepper which made D'Artagnan sneeze. The shop boy, proud of being in company, was so renowned a warrior, of a lieutenant, a musketeers, who approached the person of the king, began to work with enthusiasm, which was something like delirium, and to serve the customers with a disdainful haste, that was noticed by several. Planchet put away his money, and made up his account, submits civilities addressed to his former master. Planchet had with his equals the short speech, and the haughty familiarity of the rich shopkeeper who serves everybody and waits for nobody. D'Artagnan observed this habit with a pleasure which we shall analyze presently. He saw night come on by degrees, and at length Planchet conducted him to a chamber on the first story, where, amidst bails and chests, a table very nicely set out awaited the two guests. D'Artagnan took advantage of a moment's pause to examine the countenance of Planchet, whom he had not seen for a year. The shrewd Planchet had acquired a slight protuberance in front, but his countenance was not puffed. His keen eyes still played with facility in its deep sunk orbit, and fat, which levels all the characteristic saliences of the human face, had not yet touched either his high cheekbones, the sign of cunning and cupidity, or his pointed chin, the sign of acuteness and perseverance. Planchet reigned with as much majesty in his dining room as in his shop. He set before his master a frugal but perfectly Parisian repast. Roast meat, cooked at the bakers, with vegetables, salad, and a dessert borrowed from the shop itself. D'Artagnan was pleased that the grocer had drawn from behind the faggots a bottle of that Anjou wine, which, during all his life, had been D'Artagnan's favourite wine. Formally, Mr., said Planchet with a smileful of bonnemy, it was I who drank your wine. Now you do me the honour to drink mine. And thank God, friend Planchet, I shall drink it for a long time to come, I hope, for at present I am free. Free? You have leave of absence, monsieur? Unlimited. You are leaving the service? said Planchet, stupefied. Yes, I am resting. And the king? cried Planchet, who could not suppose it possible that the king could do without the services of such a man as D'Artagnan. The king will try his fortune elsewhere. But we have supped well. You are disposed to enjoy yourself. You invite me to confide in you. Open your ears, then. They are open. And Planchet, with a laugh more frank than cunning, opened a bottle of white wine. Leave me my reason, at least. Oh, as to you losing your head, you, monsieur. Now, my head is my own, and I mean to take better care of it than ever. In the first place, we shall talk business. How fares our money box. Wonderfully well, monsieur, the twenty thousand leva I had of you are still employed in my trade, in which they bring me nine percent. I give you seven, so I gain two by you. And are you still satisfied? Delighted. Have you brought me any more? Better than that. But do you want any? Oh, not at all. Everyone is willing to trust me now. I am extending my business. That was your intention. I play the banker a little. I buy goods of my needy brethren. I lend money to those who are not ready for their payments. Without usury. Ah, monsieur, in the course of the last week I have had two meetings on the boulevards, on account of the word you have just pronounced. What? You shall see. It concerned alone. The borrower gives me and pledge some raw sugars, on condition that I should sell if repayment were not made within a fixed period. I lend a thousand leva. He does not pay me and I shall list sugars for thirteen hundred leva. He learns this and claims a hundred crowns. Muffois. I refused, pretending that I could not sell them for more than nine hundred leva. He accused me of usury. I begged him to repeat that word to me behind the boulevards. He was an old guard and he came, and I passed your sword through his left thigh. To do? What a pretty sort of banker you make, said Bartanian. For above thirteen percent my fight, replied Planchet. That is my character. Take only twelve, said Bartanian, and call the rest premium and brokerage. You are right, monsieur, but to your business. Ah, Planchet, it is very long and very hard to speak. Do speak, and nevertheless, Bartanian twisted his mustache like a man embarrassed with the confidence he is about to make and mistrustful of his confidant. Is it an investment? asked Planchet. Why, yes, at good profit. A capital profit for a hundred percent, Planchet. Planchet gave such a blow with his fist upon the table that the bottles bounded as if they had been frightened. Good heavens, is that possible? I think it will be more, replied Bartanian coolly, but I like to lay it at the lowest. The devil, said Planchet, drawing nearer. Why, monsieur, that is magnificent. Can one put much money in it? Twenty thousand lever each, Planchet. Why, that is all you have, monsieur, for how long a time? For a month. And that will give us fifty thousand lever each profit. It is monstrous. It is worth while to fight for such interest as that. In fact, I believe it will be necessary to fight not a little, said Bartanian with the same tranquility, but this time there are two of us, Planchet, and I shall take all the blows to myself. Oh, monsieur, I will not allow that. Planchet, you cannot be concerned in it. You would be obliged to leave your business and your family. The affair is not in Paris, then. No. But broad? In England. A speculative country, that is true, said Planchet. A country that I know well. What sort of an affair, monsieur, without too much curiosity? Planchet, it is a restoration. Of monuments? Yes, of monuments. We shall restore Whitehall. That is important. And in a month, you think? I shall undertake it. That concerns you, monsieur, and when once you are engaged. Yes, that concerns me. I know what I am about. Nevertheless, I will freely consult with you. You do me great honour, but I know very little about architecture. Planchet, you are wrong. You are an excellent architect, quite as good as I am for the case in question. Thanks, monsieur, but you're old friends of the musketeers. I have been, I confess, tempted to speak of the thing to those gentlemen, but they are all absent from their houses. It is vexatious, for I know none more bold and more able. Ah, then it appears there will be an opposition, and the enterprise will be disputed. Oh, yes, Planchet, yes. I burn to know the details, monsieur. Here they are, Planchet. Close all the doors tight. Yes, monsieur. And Planchet double-locked them. That is well. Now draw near. Planchet obeyed, and opened the window because the noise of the passers-by and the carts will deafen all who might hear us. Planchet opened the window as desired, and the gusts of tumult which filled the chamber with cries, wheels, barkings, and steps deafened D'Artagnan himself, as he had wished. He then swallowed a glass of white wine and began in these terms, Planchet, I have an idea. Ah, monsieur, I recognize you so well in that, replied Planchet, panting with emotion. Chapter 20 of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume 3, Part 1, by Alexandre Dumas, translated by William Robson. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Of the society which was formed in the rude illombard at the sign of the peondor to carry out monsieur D'Artagnan's idea. After a moment's silence, in which D'Artagnan appeared to be collecting not one idea, but all his ideas. It cannot be, my dear Planchet, said he, that you have not heard of his majesty Charles I of England. Alas, yes, monsieur, since you left France in order to assist him, and that in spite of that assistance he fell, and was near dragging you down in his fall. Exactly so. I see you have a good memory, Planchet. Peste, the astonishing thing would be, if I could have lost that memory, however bad it might have been, when one has heard Grimaud, who you know is not given to talking, relate how the head of King Charles fell, how you sailed the half of a night in a scuttled vessel, and saw floating on the water that good monsieur Mordant, with a certain gold hafted dagger buried in his breast. One is not very likely to forget such things, and yet there are people who forget them, Planchet. Yes, such as have not seen them, or have not heard Grimaud relate them. Well, it is all the better that you recollect all that. I shall only have to remind you of one thing, and that is, that Charles I had a son. Without contradicting you, monsieur, he had two, said Planchet, for I saw the second one in Paris, Monsieur Le Duc of York, one day as he was going to the Palais Royale, and I was told that he was not the eldest son of Charles I, as to the eldest, I have the honour of knowing him by name, but not personally. That is exactly the point, Planchet. We must come to, it is to this eldest son formally called the Prince of Wales, and who is now styled Charles II, King of England. King without a kingdom, monsieur, replied Planchet sententiously. Yes, Planchet, and you may add an unfortunate Prince, more unfortunate than the poorest man of the people lost in the worst quarter of Paris. Planchet made a gesture full of that sort of compassion which we grant to strangers with whom we think we can never possibly find ourselves in contact. Besides, he did not see in this politico-sentimental operation any sign of the commercial idea of monsieur D'Artagnan, and it was in this idea that D'Artagnan, who was from habit, pretty well acquainted with men and things, had principally interested Planchet. I am coming to our business. This young Prince of Wales, a king without a kingdom, as you have so well said, Planchet, has interested me. I, D'Artagnan, have seen him begging assistance of Mazorine, who was a miser, and the aid of Louis, who was a child, and it appeared to me, who am acquainted with such things, that in the intelligent eye of the fallen king, in the nobility of his whole person, nobility apparent above all his miseries, I could discern the stuff of a man, and the heart of a king. Planchet tacitly approved of all this, but it did not at all, in his eyes at least, throw any light upon D'Artagnan's idea. The latter continued, This then is the reasoning which I made with myself. Listen attentively, Planchet, for we are coming to the conclusion. I am listening. Kings are not so thickly sewn upon the earth, that people can find them whenever they want them. Now, this king without a kingdom is, in my opinion, a grain of seed which will blossom in some season or other, provided a skillful, discreet and vigorous hand, so it dually and truly, selecting soil, sky, and time. Planchet still approved by a knot of his head, which showed that he did not perfectly comprehend all that was said. Poor little seed of a king, said I to myself, and really I was affected, Planchet, which leads me to think I am entering upon a foolish business, and that is why I wish to consult you, my friend. Planchet colored with pleasure and pride. Poor little seed of a king, I will pick you up and cast you into good ground. Good God, said Planchet, looking earnestly at his old master, as if in doubt as to the state of his reason. Well, what is it, said D'Artagnan, who hurts you? Me? Nothing, monsieur. You said good God. Did I? I am sure you did. Can you already understand? I confess, monsieur D'Artagnan, that I am afraid. To understand? Yes. To understand that I wish to replace upon his throne this King Charles II, who has no throne. Is that it? Planchet made a prodigious bound in his chair. Ah-ha! said he in evident terror. That is what you call a restoration. Yes, Planchet. Is it not the proper term for it? Oh, no doubt, no doubt. But have you reflected seriously? Upon what? Upon what is going on, yonder? Where? In England. And what is that? Let us see, Planchet. In the first place, monsieur, I ask your pardon for meddling in these things which have nothing to do with my trade. But since it is an affair that you propose to me, for you are proposing an affair, are you not? A superb one, Planchet. But as it is business you propose to me, I have the right to discuss it. Discuss it, Planchet. Out of discussion is born light. Well, then, since I have monsieur's permission, I will tell him that there is yonder in the first place of a parliament. Well, next. And then the army. Good. Do you see anything else? Why, then the nation. Is that all? The nation which consented to the overthrow and death of the late king, the father of this one, and which will not be willing to belie its acts. Planchet, said D'Artagnan, you argue like a cheese. The nation. The nation is tired of these gentlemen who give themselves such barbarous names and who sing songs to it. Chanting for chanting, my dear Planchet. I have remarked that nations prefer singing a merry chant to the plain chant. Remember the frond? What did they sing in those times? Well, those were good times. Not too good. Not too good. I was near being hung in those times. Well, but you were not. No. And you laid the foundation of your fortune in the midst of all those songs. That is true. Then you have nothing to say against them. Well, I return, then, to the army and parliament. I say that I borrow twenty thousand lever of monsieur Planchet, and that I put twenty thousand lever of my own to it, and with these forty thousand lever, I raise an army. Planchet clasped his hands. He saw that D'Artagnan was an earnest, and in good truth he believed his master had lost his senses. An army? Ah, monsieur, said he, with his most agreeable smile, for fear of irritating the mad man and rendering him furious. An army? How many? Of forty men, said D'Artagnan. Forty against forty thousand? That is not enough. I know very well that you, monsieur D'Artagnan, alone are equal to a thousand men, but where are we to find thirty nine men equal to you, or if we could find them, who would furnish you with money to pay them? Not bad, Planchet. The devil, you play the courtier. No, monsieur, I speak what I think, and that is exactly why I say that in the first pitched battle you fight with your forty men. I am very much afraid. Therefore I shall fight no pitched battles, my dear Planchet, said the gas-gone laughing. We have very fine examples, an antiquity of skilful retreats and marches, which consisted in avoiding the enemy instead of attacking them. You should know that, Planchet, you who commanded the Parisians the day on which they ought to have fought against the musketeers, and whose so well-calculated marches and counter-marches that you never left the palais royale. Planchet could not help laughing. It is plain, replied he, that if your forty men can seal themselves and are not on skilful, they may hope not to be beaten, but you propose obtaining some result, do you not? No doubt. This then, in my opinion, is the plan to be preceded upon, in order quickly to replace His Majesty Charles II on his throne. Good, said Planchet, increasing his attention. Let us see your plan, but in the first place it seems to me we are forgetting something. What is that? We have set aside the nation, which prefers singing merry songs to Psalms, and the army which we will not fight, but the parliament remains, and that seldom sings. Nor does it fight. How is it, Planchet, that an intelligent man like you should take any heed of a set of brawlers who call themselves rumps and barabones? The parliament does not trouble me at all, Planchet. As soon as it ceases to trouble you, monsieur, let us pass on. Yes, and arrive at the result. You remember Cromwell, Planchet? I have heard a great deal of talk about him. He was a rough soldier, and a terrible eater, moreover. What do you mean by that? Why, at one gulp, he swallowed all England. Well, Planchet, the evening before the day on which he swallowed England, if anyone had swallowed monsieur Cromwell? Oh, monsieur, it is one of the axioms of mathematics that the container must be greater than the contained. Very well. That is our fair, Planchet. But monsieur Cromwell is dead, and his container is now the tomb. My dear Planchet, I see with pleasure that you have not only become a mathematician, but a philosopher. Monsieur, in my grocery business I use much printed paper, and that instructs me. Bravo! You know then in that case, for you have not learnt mathematics and philosophy without a little history, that after this Cromwell so great there came one who was very little. Yes, he was named Richard, and he has done as you have, monsieur D'Artagnan. He has tendered his resignation. Very well said, very well. After the great man who is dead, after the little one who tendered his resignation, there came a third. This one is named Monk. He is an able general, considering he has never fought a battle. He is a skillful diplomatist, considering that he never speaks in public, and that having to say good day to a man, he meditates twelve hours, and ends by saying good night, which makes people exclaim, miracle, seeing that it falls out correctly. That is rather strong, said Planchet, but I know another political man who resembles him very much. Mr. Massarine, you mean? Himself. You are right, Planchet. Only, Mr. D'Massarine does not aspire to the throne of France, and that changes everything. Do you see, well, this Mr. Monk who has England ready roasted on his plate, and who is already opening his mouth to swallow it, this Mr. Monk, who says to the people of Charles II, and Charles II himself, Nessio Volce, I don't understand English, said Planchet. Yes, but I understand it, said D'Artagnan. Nessio Volce means I do not know you. This Mr. Monk, the most important man in England, when he shall have swallowed it. Well, asked Planchet, well, my friend, I shall go over yonder and with my forty men, I shall carry him off, pack him up, and bring him into France, where two modes of proceeding present themselves to my dazzled eyes. Oh, and to mine, too! cried Planchet, transported with enthusiasm. We will put him in a cage and show him for money. Well, Planchet, that is a third plan of which I had not thought. Do you think it a good one? Yes, certainly, but I think mine better. Let us see yours then. In the first place I shall set a ransom on him. Of how much? Peste, a fellow like that must be well worth a hundred thousand crowns. Yes, yes! You see, then, in the first place a ransom of a hundred thousand crowns? Or else? Or else, what is much better, I deliver him up to King Charles, who, having no longer either a general or an army to fear, nor a diplomatist to trick him, will restore himself, and when once restored will pay down to me the hundred thousand crowns in question. That is the idea I have formed. What do you say to her, Planchet? Magnificent, Monsieur! cried Planchet, trembling with emotion. How did you conceive that idea? It came to me one morning on the banks of the Loire, whilst our beloved King Louis XIV was pretending to weep upon the hand of mademoiselle de Mancini. Monsieur, I declare the idea is sublime, but, ah, is there a but? Permit me, but this is a little like the skin of that fine bear. You know, that they were about to sell, but which it was necessary to take from the back of the living bear. Now, to take, Monsieur Monk, there will be a bit of a scuffle, I should think. No doubt, but as I shall raise an army to, yes, yes, I understand, part ble, a coup de man, yes, then, Monsieur, you will triumph for no one equals you in such sorts of encounters. I am certainly lucky in them, said D'Artagnan with a proud simplicity. You know that if for this affair I had my dear Athos, my brave Portos, and my cunning Aramis, the business would be settled, but they are all lost as it appears, and nobody knows where to find them. I will do it then alone. Now, do you find the business good and the investment advantageous? Too much so, too much so. How can that be? Because fine things never reach the expected point. This is infallible, Planchet, and the proof is that I undertake it. It will be for you a tolerably pretty gain, and for me a very interesting stroke. It will be said, such was the old age of Monsieur D'Artagnan, and I shall hold a place in tales, and even in history itself, Planchet. I am greedy of honour. Monsieur, cried Planchet, when I think that it is here, in my home, in the midst of my sugar, my prunes, and my cinnamon, that this gigantic project is ripened, my shop seems a palace to me. Beware, beware, Planchet, if the least report of this escapes, there is the best deal for both of us. Beware, my friend, for this is a plot we are hatching. Monsieur Monk is the ally of Monsieur Mazardine. Beware. Monsieur, when a man has had the honour to belong to you, he knows nothing of fear, and when he has the advantage of being bound up in interest with you, he holds his tongue. Very well. That is more your fare than mine, seeing that in a week I shall be in England. Depart, Monsieur, depart. The sooner the better. Is the money then ready? It will be tomorrow. Tomorrow you shall receive it from my own hands. Will you have gold or silver? Gold, that is most convenient, but how are we going to arrange this? Let us see. Oh, good lord, in the simplest way possible, you shall give me a receipt. That is all. No, no, said D'Artagnan warmly. We must preserve order in all things. That is likewise my opinion, but with you, Monsieur D'Artagnan. And if I should die, Yonder, if I should be killed by a musket ball, if I should burst from drinking beer. Monsieur, I beg you to believe that in that case I should be so much afflicted at your death that I should not think about the money. Thank you, Planchet. But no matter, we shall, like two lawyers' clerks, draw up together an agreement, sort of act, which may be called a deed of company. Willingly, Monsieur. I know it is difficult to draw such a thing up, but we can try. Let us try, then. And Planchet went in search of Penn's ink and paper. D'Artagnan took the pen and wrote, between Monsieur D'Artagnan, ex-lutinent of the king's musketeers, at present residing in the Rue Ticatin, Hotel de la Chavrette, and this year, Planchet, grocer residing in the Rue de Lombard at the sign of the Pion d'Or, it has been agreed as follows. A company with a capital of forty thousand lever, and formed for the purpose of carrying out an idea conceived by Monsieur D'Artagnan, and the said Planchet approving of it in all points, will place twenty thousand lever in the hands of Monsieur D'Artagnan. He will require neither repayment nor interest before the return of Monsieur D'Artagnan, from a journey he is about to take into England. On his part, Monsieur D'Artagnan undertakes to find twenty thousand lever, which he will join to the twenty thousand already laid down by this year Planchet. He will employ the said sum of forty thousand lever according to his judgment in an undertaking which is described below. On the day when Monsieur D'Artagnan shall have re-established by whatever means his majesty King Charles II upon the throne of England, he will pay into the hands of Monsieur Planchet the sum of— The sum of a hundred and fifty thousand lever, said Planchet, innocently perceiving that D'Artagnan hesitated. Oh, the devil. No, said D'Artagnan. The division cannot be made by half. That would not be just. And yet, Monsieur, we each laid down half— Objected, Planchet, timidly. Yes, but listen to this clause, my dear Planchet, and if you do not find it equitable in every respect when it is written, well, we can scratch it out again. Nevertheless, as Monsieur D'Artagnan brings to the association besides his capital of twenty thousand lever, his time, his idea, his industry, and his skin, things which he appreciates strongly, particularly the last, Monsieur D'Artagnan will keep of the three hundred thousand lever, two hundred thousand lever for himself, which will make his share to thirds. Very well, said Planchet. Is it just? asked D'Artagnan. Perfectly just, Monsieur. And you will be contented with a hundred thousand lever? Peste, I think so. A hundred thousand for twenty thousand. And in a month, understand? How? In a month? Yes, I only ask one month. Monsieur, said Planchet generously, I give you six weeks. Thank you, replied the musketeer politely, after which the two partners re-perused their deed. That is perfect, Monsieur, said Planchet. And the late Monsieur Coquenade, the first husband of Madame Leberon de Vallon, could not have done it better. Do you find it so? Let us sign it, then, and both affix their signatures. In this fashion, said D'Artagnan, I shall be under obligations to no one. But I shall be under obligations to you, said Planchet. No, for whenever store I set by at Planchet, I may lose my skin yonder, and you will lose all. Apropos, peste, that makes me think of the principle, an indispensable clause. I shall write it. In the case of Monsieur D'Artagnan dying in this enterprise, liquidation will be considered made, and the Monsieur Planchet will give quittance from that moment to the shade of Monsieur D'Artagnan, for the twenty thousand lever paid by him into the hands of the said company. This last clause made Planchet knit his brows a little, but when he saw the brilliant eye, the muscular hand, the supple and strong back of his associate, he regained his courage, and without regret he at once added another stroke to his signature. D'Artagnan did the same. Thus was drawn the first known company contract. Perhaps such things have been abused a little since, both in form and principle. Now, said Planchet, pouring out the last glass of Anjou wine for D'Artagnan, now go to sleep, my dear master. No, replied D'Artagnan, for the most difficult part now remains to be done, and I will think over that difficult part. Bah, said Planchet, I have such great confidence in you, Monsieur D'Artagnan, that I would not give my hundred thousand lever for ninety thousand lever down. And devil take me if I don't think you are right. Upon which D'Artagnan took a candle and went up to his bedroom. End of Chapter Twenty Recording by John Van Stan Savannah, Georgia Chapter Twenty-One of the D'Artagnan Romances Volume Three Part One by Alexander Dumas Translated by William Robson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. In which D'Artagnan prepares to travel for the firm of Planchet and Company. D'Artagnan reflected to such good purpose during the night that his plan was settled by morning. This is it, said he, sitting up in bed, supporting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. This is it. I shall seek out forty steady firm men, recruited among people a little compromised, but having habits of discipline. I shall promise them five hundred lever for a month if they return, nothing if they do not return, or half for their kindred, as to food and lodging that concerns the English who have cattle in their pastures, bacon in their bacon racks, fowls in their poultry yards, and corn in their barns. I will present myself to General Monk with my little body of troops. He will receive me. I shall win his confidence and take advantage of it as soon as possible. But without going farther, D'Artagnan shook his head and interrupted himself. No, said he. I should not dare to relate this to Athos. The way is therefore not honourable. I must use violence, continued he. Very certainly I must, but without compromising my loyalty. With forty men I will traverse the country as a partisan. But if I fall in with not forty thousand English, as Planchett said, but purely and simply with four hundred, I shall be beaten. Supposing that among my forty warriors there should be found at least ten stupid ones, ten who will allow themselves to be killed one after the other from mere folly. No, it is in fact impossible to find forty men to be depended upon, they do not exist. I must learn how to be contented with thirty. With ten men less, I should have the right of avoiding any armed encounter on account of the small number of my people. And if the encounter should take place, my chance is better with thirty men than forty. Besides, I would save five thousand, Frank. That is to say the eighth of my capital. That is worth the trial. This being so, I should have thirty men. I shall divide them into three bands. We will spread ourselves out over the country with an injunction to reunite at a given moment. In this fashion ten by ten we should excite no suspicion. We should pass unperceived. Yes. Yes. Thirty. That is a magic number. There are three tens. Three. That divine number. And then truly a company of thirty men went all together will look rather imposing. Ah! Stupid wretch that I am! continued d'Artagnan. I want thirty horses. That is ruinous. Where the devil was my head when I forgot the horses. We cannot, however, think of striking such a blow without horses. Well, so be it. That sacrifice must be made. We can get the horses in the country. They are not bad besides. But I forgot. Pest. Three bands. That necessitates three leaders. There is the difficulty. Of the three commanders I have won already. That is myself. Yes, but the two others will of themselves cost almost as much money as all the rest of the troop. No. Positively I must have but one lieutenant. In that case, then, I should reduce my troop to twenty men. I know very well that twenty men is but very little, but since with thirty I was determined enough to seek to come to blows, I should do so more carefully still with twenty. Twenty. That is a round number. That besides reduces the number of the horses by ten, which is a consideration and then with a good lieutenant. More dear, what things patience and calculation are. Was I not going to embark with forty men, and have I now reduced them to twenty for an equal success? Ten thousand leavers save that one stroke and more safety. That is well. Now, then, let us see. We have nothing to do but to find this lieutenant. Let him be found, then, and after. That is not so easy. He must be brave and good, a second myself. Yes, but a lieutenant must have my secret, and as that secret is worth a million, I shall only pay my man a thousand, lever, fifteen hundred at the most. My man will sell the secret to Monk. More dear, no lieutenant. Besides, this man where he as mute as a disciple of Pythagoras, this man would be sure to have in the troops some favorite soldier, whom he would make his sergeant. The sergeant would penetrate the secret of the lieutenant in case the latter should be honest and unwilling to sell it. Then the sergeant, less honest and less ambition, will give up the whole for fifty thousand, lever. Come, come. That is impossible. The lieutenant is impossible. But then I must have no fractions. I cannot divide my troop into two and act upon two points at once without another self. Who? But what is the use of acting upon two points? As we have only one man to take, what can be the good of weakening a core by placing the right here and the left there? A single core, more due, a single one, and that commanded by D'Artagnan very well. But twenty men marching in one band are suspected by everybody. Twenty horsemen must not be seen marching together, or a company will be detached against them, and the password will be required, though which company upon seeing them embarrassed to give it would shoot Mr. D'Artagnan and his men like so many rabbits. I reduce myself, then, to ten men. In this fashion I shall act simply and with unity. I shall be forced to be prudent, which is half the success in an affair of the kind I am undertaking. A greater number might perhaps have drawn me into some folly. Ten horses are not many either to buy or take. A capital idea. What tranquility it infuses into my mind. No more suspicions. No passwords. No more dangers. Ten men. They are valets or clerks. Ten men. Leading ten horses laden with merchandise of whatever kind or tolerated. Well received. Everywhere. Ten men travel on account of the house, of planchette and company, of France. Nothing can be said against that. These ten men, clothed like manufacturers, have a good cutlass or good musket at their saddle-bow, and a good pistol in the holster. They never allow themselves to be uneasy because they have no evil designs. They are perhaps, in truth, a little disposed to be smugglers, but what harm is in that? Smuggling is not like polygamy or hanging offence. The worst that can happen to us is the confiscation of our merchandise. Our merchandise confiscated? Fine affair. That. Come. Come. It is a superb plan. Ten men only. Ten men whom I will engage for my service. Ten men who shall be as resolute as forty, who would cost me four times as much, and to whom for greater security I will never open my mouth as to my designs, and to whom I shall only say, my friends, there is a blow to be struck. Things being after this fashion, Satan will be very malicious if he plays me one of his tricks. Fifteen thousand levers saved. That's superb! Out of twenty! Thus fortified by his laborious calculations, D'Artagnan stopped at this plan, and determined to change nothing in it. He had already on a list furnished by his inexhaustible memory, ten men illustrious amongst the seekers of adventures, ill-treated by fortune and not on good terms with justice. Upon this, D'Artagnan rose and instantly set off in the search, telling Planchet not to expect him to breakfast, and perhaps not to dinner. A day and a half spent in rummaging amongst certain dens of Paris sufficed for his recruiting, and without allowing his adventurers to communicate with each other, he had picked up and got together in less than thirty hours a charming collection of ill-looking faces, speaking a French less pure than the English they were about to attempt. These men were, for the most part, guards, whose merit D'Artagnan had an opportunity of appreciating in various encounters, whom drunkenness, unlucky sword thrusts, unexpected winnings at play, or the economical reforms of Mazarin, had forced to seek shade and solitude, those two great consolers of irritated and chafing spirits. They bore upon their countenance, and in their vestments the traces of the heartaches they had undergone. Some had their visages scarred. All had their clothes and rags. D'Artagnan comforted the most needy of these brotherly miseries by a prudent distribution of the crowns of the society. Then, having taken care that these crowns should be employed in the physical improvement of the troop, he appointed a tristing place in the north of France, between Berks and Saint-Omer. Six days were allowed as the utmost term, and D'Artagnan was sufficiently acquainted with the good will, the good humour, and the relative probity of these illustrious recruits to be certain that not one of them would fail in his appointment. These orders given, this rendezvous fixed, he went to bid farewell to Planchet, who asked news of his army. D'Artagnan did not think proper to inform him of the reduction he had made in his personnel. He feared that the confidence of his associate would be abated by such an avowal. Planchet was delighted to learn that the army was levied, and that he, Planchet, found himself a kind of half-king, who, from his throne counter, kept in pay a body of troops destined to make war against perfidious Albion, that enemy of all true French hearts. Planchet paid down in double Louis twenty thousand lever to D'Artagnan on the part of himself, Planchet, and twenty thousand lever still in double Louis in account with D'Artagnan. D'Artagnan placed each of the twenty thousand franc in a bag and weighing a bag in each hand. This money is very embarrassing, my dear Planchet, said he. Do you know this weighs thirty pounds? Bah! Your horse will carry that like a feather. D'Artagnan shook his head. Don't tell me such things, Planchet. A horse overloaded with thirty pounds in addition to the rider and his portmanteau cannot cross a river so easily, cannot leap over a wall or ditch so lightly, and the horse failing the horseman fails. It is true that you, Planchet, who has served in the infantry may not be aware of all that. Then what is to be done, monsieur? said Planchet, greatly embarrassed. Listen to me, said D'Artagnan. I will pay my army on its return home. Keep my half of twenty thousand lever, which you can use during that time. And my half, said Planchet, I shall take that with me. Your confidence does me honour, said Planchet, but supposing you should not return. That is possible, although not very probable. Then, Planchet, in case I should not return, give me a pen. I will make my will. D'Artagnan took a pen and some paper, and wrote upon a plain sheet. I, D'Artagnan, possessed twenty thousand lever, laid up cent by cent during thirty years that I have been in the service of His Majesty the King of France. I leave five thousand to Athos, five thousand to Porto, cent five thousand to Aramis, that they may give the said sums in my name and their own to my young friend Raoul, Vicente the Bragalon. I give the remaining five thousand to Planchet, that he may distribute the fifteen thousand with less regret among my friends, with which purpose I sign these presents. D'Artagnan. Planchet appeared very curious to know what D'Artagnan had written. Here, said the musketeer, read it. On reading the last lines the tears came into Planchet's eyes. You think, then, that I would not have given the money without that? Then I will have none of your five thousand, Frank. D'Artagnan smiled. Accept it, accept it, Planchet, and in that way you will only lose fifteen thousand franc instead of twenty thousand, and you will not be tempted to disregard the signature of your master and friend by losing nothing at all. How well that dear Monsieur D'Artagnan knew the hearts of men and grocers. They who have pronounced Don Quixote mad because he rode out to the conquest of an empire with nobody but Sancho his squire, and they who have pronounced Sancho mad because he accompanied his master in his attempt to conquer the said empire, they certainly will have no hesitation in extending the same judgment to D'Artagnan and Planchet. And yet the first passed for one of the most subtle spirits among the astute spirits of the court of France. As to the second, he had acquired by good right the reputation of having one of the longest heads among the grocers of the rue de Lombard, consequently of Paris, and consequently of France. Now to consider these two men from the point of view from which you would consider other men, and the means by the aid of which they contemplated to restore a monarch to his throne. Compared with other means, the shallowest brains of the country were brains, or most shallow, must have revolted against the presumptuous madness of the lieutenant and the stupidity of his associate. Fortunately, D'Artagnan was not a man to listen to the idle talk of those around him, or to the comments that were made on himself. He had adopted the motto, act well and let people talk. Planchet on his part had adopted this, act and say nothing. It resulted from this that according to the custom of all superior geniuses, these two men flattered themselves in trapectus, with being in the right against all who found fault with them. As the beginning, D'Artagnan set out in the finest of possible weather, without a cloud in the heavens, without a cloud on his mind, joyous and strong, calm and decided, great in his resolution, and consequently carrying with him a tenfold dose of that potent fluid which the shocks of mind caused to spring from the nerves, and which procure for the human machine a force and an influence of which future ages will render, according to all probability, a more arithmetical account than we can possibly do at present. He was again, as in times past, on that same road of adventures which had led him to Belon, and which he was now travelling for the fourth time. It appeared to him that he could almost recognize the trace of his own steps upon the road, and that of his first upon the doors of the hostelries. His memory, always active and present, brought back that youth which neither thirty years later in his great heart nor his wrist of steel would have belied. What a rich nature was that of this man. He had all the passions, all the defects, all the weaknesses, and the spirit of contradiction familiar to his understanding changed all these imperfections into corresponding qualities. D'Artagnan thanks to his ever active imagination was afraid of a shadow, and ashamed of being afraid, he marched straight up to that shadow and then became extravagant in his bravery if the danger proved to be real. Thus everything in him was emotion, and therefore enjoyment. He loved the society of others, but never became tired of his own, and more than once, if he could have been heard when he was alone, he might have been seen laughing at the jokes he related to himself, or the tricks his imagination created just five minutes before all we might have been looked for. D'Artagnan was not perhaps so gay this time, as he would have been with the prospect of finding some good friends at Calais. Instead of joining the ten scamps there, Mellon Collie, however, did not visit him more than once a day, and it was about five visits that he received from that somber deity before he got sight of the sea at Belone, and then these visits were indeed but short. But when one D'Artagnan found himself near the field of action, all other feelings but that of confidence disappeared never to return. From Belone he followed the coast to Calais. Calais was the place of General Rendezvous, and at Calais he had named to each of his recruits the hostelry of La Grande Monarch, where living was not extravagant, where sailors messed, and where men of the sword, with sheath of leather, be it understood, found lodging, table, food, and all the comforts of life for thirties sous per diem. D'Artagnan proposed to himself to take them by surprise in flagrante delicto of wandering life, and to judge by the first appearance if he could count on them as trusty companions. He arrived at Calais at half-past four in the afternoon. Chapter 22 of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume 3 Part 1 by Alexandre Dumas, translated by William Robson, this Librivox recording is in the public domain. D'Artagnan travels for the house of Planchette and Company. The hostelry of La Grande Monarch was situated in a little street parallel to the port, without looking out upon the port itself. Some lanes cut, as steps cut the two parallels of the latter, the two great straight lines of the port and the street. By these lanes, passengers came suddenly from the port into the street or from the street on to the port. D'Artagnan arrived at the port, took one of these lanes, and came out in front of the hostelry of La Grande Monarch. The moment was well chosen and might remind D'Artagnan of his start in life at the hostelry of the Franc-Munier at Mignon. Some sellers who had been playing at dice had started a quarrel and were threatening each other furiously. The host, hostess, and two lads were watching with anxiety the circle of these angry gamblers, from the midst of which war seemed ready to break forth, bristling with knives and hatchets. The play, nevertheless, was continued. A stone bench was occupied by two men, who appeared dense to watch the door. Four tables placed at the back of the common chamber were occupied by eight other individuals. Neither the men at the door, nor those at the tables, took any part in the play or the quarrel. D'Artagnan recognized his ten men and these cold, indifferent spectators. The quarrel went on increasing. Every passion has, like the sea, its tide which ascends and descends. Reaching the climax of passion, one seller overturned the table and the money which was upon it. The table fell and the money rolled about. In an instant all belonging to the hostelry threw themselves upon the stakes, and many a piece of silver was picked up by people who stole away whilst the sellers were scuffling with each other. The two men on the bench and the eight at the tables, although they seemed perfect strangers to each other, these ten men alone, we say, appeared to have agreed to remain impassable amidst the cries of fury and the chinking of money. Two only contended themselves with pushing with their feet combatants who came under their table. Two others, rather than take part in this disturbance, buried their hands in their pockets, and another two jumped upon the table they occupied, as people do, to avoid being submerged by overflowing water. Come, come! said D'Artagnan to himself, not having lost one of these details we have related. This is a very fair gathering, circumspect, calm, accustomed to disturbance, acquainted with blows. Peste, I have been lucky! All at once his attention was called to a particular part of the room. The two men who had pushed the struggleers with their feet were assailed with abuse by the sellers who had become reconciled. One of them, half drunk with passion and quite drunk with beer, came in a menacing manner to demand of the shorter of these two sages by what right he had touched with his foot creatures of the good God who were not dogs. And whilst putting this question in order to make it more direct, he applied his great fist to the nose of D'Artagnan's recruit. This man became pale, without its being to be discerned, whether his paler arose from anger or from fear, seeing which the sailor concluded it was from fear, and raised his fist with the manifest intention of letting it fall upon the head of the stranger. But though the threatened man did not appear to move, he dealt the sailor such a severe blow in the stomach that he sent him rolling and howling to the other side of the room. At the same instant, rallied by the esprit de corps, all the comrades of the conquered man fell upon the conqueror. The latter, with the same coolness of which he had given proof, without committing the imprudence of touching his weapons, took up a beer-pot with a pewter lid and knocked down two or three of his assailants. Then, as he was about to yield to numbers, the seven other silent men at the tables who had not stirred perceived that their cause was at stake, and came to the rescue. At the same time the two indifferent spectators at the door turned round with frowning brows, indicating their evident intention of taking the enemy in the rear, if the enemy did not cease their aggressions. The host, his helpers, and two watchmen were passing, and who from curiosity had penetrated too far into the room were mixed up in the tumult and showered with blows. The Parisians hit like cyclops, with an ensemble and a tactic delightful to behold. At length, obliged to beat a retreat before superior numbers, they formed an entrenchment behind their large table which they raised by main force. Whilst the two others, arming themselves each with a trestle, and using it like a great sledgehammer, knocked it down at a blow eight sailors upon whose heads they had brought their monstrous catapult at play. The floor was already strewn with wounded, and the room filled with cries and dust, when D'Artagnan, satisfied with the test, advanced sword in hand and striking with the pommel every head that came in his way, he uttered a vigorous holla, which put at instantaneous end to the conflict. A great back flood directly took place from the center to the sides of the room, so that D'Artagnan found himself isolated and dominator. What is all this about? Then demanded he of the assembly, with the majestic tone of Neptune pronouncing the close ego. At the very instant, at the first sound of his voice to carry on the Virgilian metaphor, D'Artagnan's recruits, recognizing each his sovereign lord, discontinued their plank fighting and trestle blows. On their side, the sailors seeing that long-naked sword, that martial air and the agile arm which came to the rescue of their enemies, and the person of a man who seemed accustomed to command, the sailors picked up their wounded and their pitchers. The Parisians wiped their brows and viewed their leader with respect. D'Artagnan was loaded with thanks by the host of Le Grand Monarch. He received them like a man who knows that nothing is being offered that does not belong to him, and then said he would go and walk upon the port till supper was ready. Immediately, each of the recruits who understood the summons took his hat, brush the dust off his clothes, and followed D'Artagnan. But D'Artagnan, whilst walking and observing, took care not to stop. He directed his course toward the downs, and the ten men, surprised at finding themselves going in the track of each other, uneasy at seeing on their right, on their left, and behind them, companions upon whom they had not reckoned, followed him casting furtive glances at each other. It was not till he had arrived at the hollow part of the deepest down that D'Artagnan, smiling to see them outdone, turned towards them, making a friendly sign with his hand. Hey, come, come, gentlemen, said he. Let us not devour each other. You are made to live together, to understand each other in all respects, and not to devour one another. Instantly all hesitation ceased. The men breathed as if they had been taken out of a coffin, and examined each other complacently. After this examination they turned their eyes toward their leader, who had long been acquainted with the art of speaking to men of that class, and who improvised the following little speech pronounced with an energy truly gas-gone. Gentlemen, you all know who I am. I have engaged you from knowing you to be brave, and willing to associate you with me in a glorious enterprise. Imagine that in labouring for me you labour for the king. I only warn you that if you allow anything of this supposition to appear, I shall be forced to crack your skulls immediately, in the manner most convenient to me. You are not ignorant, gentlemen, that state secrets are like a mortal poison. As long as that poison is in its box and the box is closed, it is not injurious. Out of the box, it kills. Now, draw near and you shall know as much of the secret as I am able to tell you. All drew close to him with an expression of curiosity. Approach, continued D'Artagnan, and let not the bird which passes over our heads, the rabbit which sports on the downs, the fish which bounds from the waters, hear us. Our business is to learn and to report to Monsieur Le Sur intentant of the finances. To what extent English smuggling is injurious to the French merchants? I shall enter every place and seeing everything. We are poor Picard fishermen, thrown upon the coast by a storm. It is certain that we must sell fish, neither more nor less, like true fishermen. Only people might guess who we are, and might molest us. It is therefore necessary that we should be in a condition to defend ourselves. And this is why I have selected men of spirit and courage. We shall lead a steady life and not incur much danger, seeing that we have behind us a powerful protector thanks to whom no embarrassment is possible. One thing alone puzzles me. But I hope that after a short explanation you will relieve me from that difficulty. The thing which puzzles me is taking with me a crew of stupid fishermen, which crew will annoy me immensely, whilst if by chance there were among you any who have seen the sea. Oh, don't let that trouble you, said one of the recruits. I was a prisoner among the pirates of Tunis three years, and can maneuver a boat like an admiral. See, said D'Artagnan, what an admirable thing chance is! D'Artagnan pronounced these words with an indefinable tone of feigned bonnemy, for he knew very well that the victim of pirates was an old corsair, and had engaged him in consequence of that knowledge. But D'Artagnan never said more than there was need to say, in order to leave people in doubt. He paid himself with the explanation and welcomed the effect, without appearing to be preoccupied with the cause. And I, said a second, I by chance, had an uncle who directed the works of the port of La Rochelle, when quite a child. I played about the boats, and I know how to handle an ore, or a sail, as well as the best porante seller. The latter did not lie much more than the first, for he had rowed on board his majesty's galleys six years at Kyoto. Two others were more frank. They confessed honestly that they had served on board a vessel as soldiers on punishment, and did not blush for it. D'Artagnan found himself then the leader of ten men of war and four sailors, having at once a land army and a sea force, which would have earned the pride of Planchet to its height, if Planchet had known the details. Nothing was now left but arranging the general orders, and D'Artagnan gave them with precision. He enjoined his men to be ready to set out for the Hague, some following the coast which leads to Breskins, others the road to Antwerp. The rendezvous was given by calculating each day's march, a fortnight from that time upon the chief place at the Hague. D'Artagnan recommended his men to go in couples, as they liked best, from sympathy. He himself selected from among those with the least disreputable look, two guards whom he had formerly known, and whose only faults were being drunkards and gamblers. These men had not entirely lost all ideas of civilization, and under proper garments their hearts would beat again. D'Artagnan, not to create any jealousy with the others, made the rest go forward. He kept his two selected ones, clothed them from his own wardrobe, and set out with them. It was to these two, whom he seemed to honor with an absolute confidence, that D'Artagnan imparted a false secret, destined to secure the success of the expedition. He confessed to them that the object was not to learn to what extent the French merchants were injured by English smuggling, but to learn how far French smuggling could annoy English trade. These men appeared convinced. They were effectively so. D'Artagnan was quite sure that at the first debauch when thoroughly drunk, one of the two would divulge the secret to the whole band. His game appeared infallible. A fortnight, after all, we have said, had taken place at Calais, the whole troop assembled at the Hague. Then D'Artagnan perceived that all his men, with remarkable intelligence, had already travestied themselves into sailors, more or less ill-treated by the sea. D'Artagnan left them to sleep in a den in Newkirk Street, whilst he lodged comfortably upon the Grand Canal. He learned that the King of England had come back to his old ally, William II of Nassau, Startholder of Holland. He learned also that the refusal of Louis XIV had a little cool the protection afforded him up to that time, and in consequence he had gone to reside in a little village house, at a chevenigan, situated in the Downs on the seashore, about a league from the Hague. There it was said, the unfortunate banished king consoled himself in his exile, by looking, with the melancholy peculiar to the princes of his race, at that immense North Sea, which separated him from his England, as it had formerly separated Mary Stuart from France. There, behind the trees of the beautiful wood of Chevenigan, on the fine sand upon which grows the golden broom of the Down, Charles II vegetated as it did, more unfortunate, for he had life and thought, and he hoped and despaired by turns. D'Artagnan went once as far as Chevenigan, in order to be certain that all was true that was said of the King. He beheld Charles II, pensive and alone, coming out of a little door opening into the wood, and walking on the beach in the setting sun, without even attracting the attention of the fishermen, who on their return in the evening drew like the ancient mariners of the Archipelago their barks upon the sand of the shore. D'Artagnan recognized the King. He saw him fix his melancholy look upon the immense extent of the waters, and absorb upon his pale countenance the red rays of the sun, already cut by the black line of the horizon. Then Charles returned to his isolated abode, always alone, slow and sad, amusing himself with making the friable and moving sand creek beneath his feet. That very evening D'Artagnan hired for a thousand lever, a fishing boat worth four thousand. He paid a thousand lever down, and deposited the three thousand with a burgamaster, after which he brought on board without there being seen the ten men who formed his land-armony, and with the rising tide. At three o'clock in the morning he got into the open sea, maneuvering ostensibly with the four others, and depending upon the science of his galley-slave as upon that of the first pilot of the port.