The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [144]
“Your last order is unnecessary,” D’Artagnan broke in. “There are loaded pistols in the holsters.” Bazin sighed. “Come, Bazin, do not take things amiss. People may gain the Kingdom of Heaven under all sorts of conditions! Paradise is not reserved exclusively for clerics.”
“Alas, Monsieur, my master was already such a skilled theologian,” Bazin sighed, tears in his eyes. “He might have become a bishop or even a cardinal.”
D’Artagnan suggested that the unhappy Bazin reflect for a moment. What did it profit a man to take up Holy Orders? It did not shelter him from war; His Eminence the Cardinal was himself about to campaign with a helmet on his head and a pike in his fist. There was also Monsieur de Nogaret de La Valette. What of him? He, too, was a cardinal and how often had his lackey had to prepare lint to dress His Eminence’s wounds?
“True, all too true,” Bazin groaned; “we live in a topsy-turvy world.”
As they reached the stables Aramis became more alert. As his horse was led up:
“Hold my stirrups, Bazin,” he commanded and sprang into the saddle with his usual agility and grace. But after a series of vaults and curvets, the noble animal had bested his noble master and Aramis, grown very pale, swayed in the saddle. D’Artagnan, foreseeing such a possibility, had kept his eye on him; at just the right moment he caught up with the horse, stood by and received a fainting Aramis in his arms. With Bazin’s help he escorted Aramis to his chamber.
“You were too weak and it is better so,” he told his friend. “Be sure to take good care of yourself. I will go alone in search of Athos.”
“You are a man of iron and brass,” Aramis whispered.
“No, I am lucky, that is all. But tell me what you expect to do while I am gone. What about glosses in re the fingers, vide Benediction? No nonsense, eh?”
Aramis smiled.
“I shall write poetry,” he said.
“Good, my friend; verses fragrant with the perfume of the gay chambermaid who attends upon Madame de Chevreuse. Incidentally you might teach Bazin the laws of prosody; he would surely find them consoling. As for the horse, ride him from time to time every day; it will help restore you.”
“Never you worry, D’Artagnan, I shall be ready to follow you the moment you return.”
Whereupon they parted and D’Artagnan, having charged Bazin and the mistress of the inn to take the best possible care of Aramis, trotted off along the road to Amiens. Several problems assailed him. How was he to find Athos, if find him he could? And in what state? He had left his friend in a very critical condition; Athos might very easily have been killed. Here was a gloomy prospect but one he must face. As he rode on, the silent Planchet by his side, he felt lost in perplexity. Now he frowned angrily, now he sighed in desperation; but he was sure of one thing, he would exert vengeance if vengeance were called for.
Of all D’Artagnan’s friends, Athos was the eldest and therefore the most remote from him, apparently, in tastes and interests. Yet of all his friends it was Athos he preferred.
D’Artagnan admired the man’s noble bearing, his unmistakable distinction . . . he admired the occasional flashes of grandeur which burst from out the modest shadows in which he usually chose to remain . . . he admired the unfailing serenity and equanimity which made of Athos the best of companions . . . he admired his forced, somewhat mordant gaiety, which was always both gentle and wise . . . he admired his courage, which might have seemed rash, had it not sprung from the rarest self-control . . . and finally, he admired Athos most because he felt drawn toward him more through respect than through friendship. . . .
Monsieur de Tréville, for instance, was a great nobleman, a gallant man and a finished courtier, yet when in the mood for it Athos had nothing to suffer by comparison with the Captain of Musketeers. Pondering over the immense superiority Athos enjoyed, D’Artagnan recalled many facets of his friend’s personality: Athos, of medium height but built in such flawless proportions . . . Athos who more than