The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [117]
D’Artagnan found the Captain of Musketeers highly elated. The King and Queen had been charming to him at the ball. It is true the Cardinal was particularly sullen and at one o’clock, pleading illness, left the Hôtel de Ville. But their Majesties stayed on making merry until six o’clock in the morning.
“And now, my young friend,” Monsieur de Tréville lowered his voice and glanced carefully around, making sure they were quite alone, “now let us talk about you. Obviously your happy return has something to do with the King’s joy, the Queen’s triumph and the Cardinal’s confusion. You will have to be very cautious indeed.”
“What have I to fear, Monsieur, so long as I enjoy the favor of Their Majesties?”
“You have everything to fear, believe me! The Cardinal is not the man to have a joke played on him without settling accounts with the jokester. And I venture to think that the jokester in question is a certain young Gascon of my acquaintance.”
“Do you think the Cardinal knows as much as you, Monsieur? Do you think he suspects I have been to London?”
“My God, were you in London? Was that where you found that beautiful diamond I see on your finger? Take care my dear D’Artagnan, a gift from an enemy is not particularly profitable. There is some Latin verse to this effect . . . let me think . . . ?”
D’Artagnan had never succeeded in cramming the barest rudiments of Latin into his head; his ignorance had been the despair of his tutor. And so he hemmed and hawed, mumbling: “Yes, Monsieur, I seem to recall some such line . . . it goes. . . .”
“Of course there is,” Monsieur de Tréville broke in, for he had at least a smattering of letters, “in fact Monsieur de Benserade, the poet, was quoting that very line just the other day. Wait! Here it is:
Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.
“Ah, yes, Monsieur,” D’Artagnan agreed, quite nonplussed.
“It means,” Tréville went on:
“Beware the foe bringing gifts.”
“This diamond does not come from an enemy, Monsieur,” D’Artagnan explained. “It comes from the Queen.”
“From the Queen, eh? It is indeed a truly royal jewel; it must be worth a thousand pistoles if it’s worth a sou. And through whom did the Queen send you this gift?”
“Her Majesty gave it to me personally.”
“Where?”
“In the small room adjoining her dressing-room at the Hôtel de Ville.”
“How did this happen?”
“It happened whilst I was kissing Her Majesty’s hand—”
“You kissed the Queen’s hand!” Monsieur de Tréville looked at D’Artagnan more closely.
“Her Majesty did me the honor to grant me this signal favor.”
“In the presence of witnesses? How rash of her, how terribly rash!”
“No, Monsieur, do not worry, no one saw the Queen!”
And D’Artagnan related every circumstance of the night before.
“Oh, woman, woman!” the old soldier philosophized. “Who can fail to recognize her by her romantic imagination! Everything that smacks of mystery charms her! You saw an arm, no more! Should you meet the Queen you would not recognize her; should she meet you, she would not know who you are.”
“I daresay not, Monsieur, but thanks to this diamond . . .”
“Look here, young man, let me give you a piece of advice, sound advice, the advice of a friend—”
“I would be much honored, Monsieur.”
“Well, go to the nearest jeweler and sell him that diamond for whatever he will give you. However much of a bargainer he may be, you will get at least eight hundred pistoles for it. Pistoles are an anonymous commodity and your ring is terribly personal. Remember it may betray whoever wears it.”
“I, sell this ring—? I sell a ring which comes to me from my Queen! Never!”
“Then at least turn the diamond inwards, silly lad! Do you think anyone believes a cadet of Gascony finds such jewels in his mother’s jewel-case?”
“I still do not see what I have to fear,” D’Artagnan argued.
“Oh, nothing at all,” Monsieur de Tréville said airily. “You are as safe as a man resting on a mine whose fuse is burning.”
Monsieur de Tréville’s solemn and positive tone gave the young Gascon some pause; he felt somewhat worried.
“The devil, Monsieur,