The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [148]
“We hastened to comply with this order, for as Monsieur can well understand we wished to do all your friend desired. Monsieur Grimaud—he told us his name though he is mum as the grave—Monsieur Grimaud was therefore carried down to the cellar, wounded though he was. Then his master, having admitted him, barricaded the door again, and ordered us to stay where we belonged.”
“But where is he, where is Athos?”
“In the cellar, Monsieur.”
“What, you wretch! You have been keeping him in the cellar all this time?”
“Merciful Heaven, no, Monsieur! I keep him in my cellar? Oh, you have no idea of what he is up to! If only you could persuade him to leave and come up for air, I would be grateful to you for the rest of my days, I would adore you as I adore my patron saint.”
“So he is in your cellar? I shall find him there?”
“No doubt about it, Monsieur; he insisted on staying there. We pass him down some bread at the end of a pitchfork every day through a vent; but, wellaway! it is not bread and meat that he absorbs most. Once I tried to go down with two of my servants but he flew into a towering rage; I heard the gentleman priming his pistols and the lackey cocking his musketoon. When I asked what they purposed, the gentleman replied that they had forty bullets to fire and would not hesitate to fire them to the last one if we so much as attempted to set foot in the cellar.”
D’Artagnan smiled.
“Well, Monsieur, I went to see the Governor. He told me that I had got exactly what I deserved and that it would teach me not to insult noble and honorable gentlemen who sought lodging in my hostelry.”
Again D’Artagnan laughed uncontrollably at the landlord’s woebegone expression.
“What has happened since?” he asked.
“Since then, begging your pardon, we have been leading the most miserable existence imaginable. All our supplies are in that cellar: our choicest wines in bottles, other wines in casks, our beer, our spices, our bacon, our sausages! As we are not permitted to go down there, we are compelled to refuse food and drink to our clients. Our inn is losing customers and money every day. Another week with your friend in the cellar and I shall be a ruined man.”
“Which you richly deserve, you scoundrel. Could you not tell by our looks that we were people of quality and not coiners?”
“Ay, Monsieur, all too true! But hark! there he goes, off into a rage again!”
“Somebody probably disturbed him,” D’Artagnan suggested.
“But I can’t help it, Monsieur. Two English gentlemen have just arrived.”
“What of that?”
“Well, the English are fond of good wine, as you well know, and these two gentlemen ordered my best. My wife probably requested permission of your friend to enter the cellar and as usual it was probably refused. Ah, God, listen! What a hullabaloo! Has all Hell broken loose in my respectable inn?”
D’Artagnan heard an uproar rising from the cellar and, preceded by the host who wrung his hands and followed by Planchet who kept his musketoon ready for action, he headed toward the theatre of operations.
The two English gentlemen were exasperated; they had ridden hard and long and were dying of hunger and thirst.
“But this is an outrage!” one of them cried in excellent French, though with a foreign accent.
“How dare this lunatic prevent these good people from getting their own wine out of their own cellar!” the other demanded.
“Let us break in!”
“Yes, and if he gets too wild, we’ll kill the fellow!”
“Just one moment, gentlemen,” D’Artagnan cautioned, drawing his pistols from his belt. “Nobody is to be killed, if you please!”
“Come on, gentlemen, try to get in!” Athos challenged calmly from the other side of the door. “Let one of these sham ogres put his face in here and we shall see what we shall see!”
Brave as they appeared, the Englishmen looked at each other hesitatingly. It was as though the cellar housed some very real and ravenous ogre, a giant hero of popular legend into whose cavern no man ventured with impunity.
There was a moment of silence, after which the Englishmen determined