The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [210]
What was this all about, he wondered.
The first and most natural explanation was that the men of La Rochelle had laid an ambush for him. They would not be displeased to kill one of His Majesty’s Guards because this would make one enemy the less and because the victim might have a well-lined purse in pocket. (He picked up his hat, examined the bullet hole and shook his head. The bullet came from no musket but from an harquebus. The accuracy of marksmanship proved that the weapon used was no campaign firearm but a special and costly precision weapon. Here was no military ambush, the more so since the bullet was not of regular military caliber.)
A second explanation occurred: perhaps the Cardinal had taken this occasion to remind D’Artagnan of his lively concern for him. D’Artagnan recalled that just as he had sighted the first barrel in the dying rays of the sun, he had been meditating upon the Cardinal’s forbearance. (But no, this was no work of the Cardinal’s. Why should His Eminence resort to such elaborate means when he had merely to stretch out his hand in order to destroy D’Artagnan?)
There was a third possibility and the likeliest: Milady! (But D’Artagnan sought vainly to recall the features or dress of the murderers; he had escaped so rapidly that he had seen only the two gleaming barrels.)
“Athos, Porthos, Aramis, where are you now, my dear friends?” he murmured. “How sorely I miss you!”
He spent a very bad night, awaking with a start several times; nightmares possessed him and twice at least he imagined he saw a man approaching his bed, dagger in hand. At long last day brought him the comfort of light, but he felt certain that his troubles had been merely postponed. So he spent the whole day in his quarters, persuading himself that he did so only because of the wretched weather.
Two days later at nine o’clock, the drums beat to arms; the Duc d’Orléans was making a surprise inspection. He passed along the front of the line; one by one, the commanding officers approached him to pay their compliments, Monsieur des Essarts among them. Presently D’Artagnan fancied that Monsieur des Essarts was motioning him to step forward, but diffidently he awaited a fresh sign from his superior. As the Captain motioned again, D’Artagnan stepped out of rank and advanced to receive orders.
“The Duc d’Orléans, our Commander-in-Chief, is about to call on volunteers for a special mission,” Monsieur des Essarts explained. “It is a dangerous mission but it will bring honor to those who undertake it. I thought you might be interested, Monsieur.”
“My deepest thanks, mon capitaine!” D’Artagnan bowed. What a stroke of luck! Here was a possibility of distinguishing himself under the eye of the Lieutenant-General.
The Duc d’Orléans explained that the men of La Rochelle had sallied during the night and recaptured a bastion which the Royal Army had taken two days earlier. The point was to ascertain by a desperate reconnaissance how heavily this bastion was manned. Raising his voice, he said:
“I shall need four or five volunteers, Captain, and a dependable man in charge.”
“This is the man we need,” Monsieur des Essarts answered, pointing to D’Artagnan. “As for the volunteers, Monsieur d’Artagnan has but to make his wishes known and the men will not be wanting.”
D’Artagnan turned about face, saluted the ranks, and cried:
“Four men wanted, front and center, to risk being killed with me!”
Two fellow guardsmen sprang forward; two common soldiers joined them, and D’Artagnan accepted the four as escort.
“First come, first served,” he told the others who had offered their services.
Whether the sallying forces from La Rochelle, having seized the bastion, evacuated or manned it was not known. D’Artagnan’s mission was to draw close