The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [220]
“A quarrel? For what reason, gentlemen? You know I do not like quarrels.”
“That is exactly why I have the honor to inform Your Eminence of what happened. Otherwise you might learn about it from others, and, on the strength of false witness, believe us to be at fault.”
“And how was this quarrel settled?” the Cardinal demanded, knitting his brow.
“My friend Aramis, here, was pinked in the arm. But, as Your Eminence can see, his wound is not serious enough to prevent him from going into action tomorrow, if Your Eminence orders an escalade.”
“But surely, gentlemen, you are not the kind of men who blithely allow themselves to be wounded,” the Cardinal observed. “Come, be frank with me; I am sure you have settled accounts with somebody. Confess! You know I have the right to give absolution.”
“As for me, Monseigneur,” Athos explained, “I did not even draw my sword. I took the fellow who offended me round the waist and tossed him out of the window. It appears that in falling,” Athos continued with some hesitation, “he broke his thigh.”
“Well, well! And you, Monsieur Porthos?”
“Monseigneur, I know that dueling is prohibited. I therefore seized a bench and brought it down on one of the brigands so hard that I fancy his shoulder is broken.”
“So!” said the Cardinal in a dulcet ironic tone. “And Monsieur Aramis?”
“For my part, Monseigneur, I am of a very mild disposition. Besides—perhaps Your Eminence is not aware of it—I am about to enter Holy Orders. I endeavored to appease my comrades when one of those rascals dealt me a treacherous swordblow across the left arm. I must admit I lost my patience then, drew my sword and, as he attacked me again, I had the impression that in charging violently he must have run into my sword. I do know that he fell and I rather imagine he was conveyed from the scene with his two companions.”
“The devil, gentlemen!” grumbled the Cardinal. “Three soldiers placed hors de combat in a tavern brawl! I must say you don’t do your work by halves! Pray what was the cause of the quarrel?”
“These wretches were drunk,” Athos elucidated. “Knowing that a lady had arrived at the inn this evening, they sought to force their way into her room.”
“To force their way into her room? For what purpose?”
“Doubtless to have their will of her, Monseigneur,” Athos specified. “I have had the honor of informing Your Eminence that these men were drunk.”
“What of the lady?” the Cardinal inquired with a certain anxiety. “Was she young and comely?”
“We did not see her, Monseigneur.”
“You did not see her? Ah, well! You acted rightly in defending a woman’s honor, gentlemen. As I am now myself going to the Red Dovecote, I shall find out if you have told me the truth.”
“Monseigneur, we are gentlemen,” Athos retorted haughtily. “We would not tell a lie even if our heads hung in the balance.”
“I do not doubt it for a minute, Monsieur Athos,” the Cardinal agreed. Then, changing the conversation:
“Was this lady alone?” he added.
“There was a cavalier closeted with her. Strangely enough, despite the uproar, this cavalier did not show his face. Obviously a coward, Monseigneur!”
“‘Judge not according to the appearance’ says the Gospel.”
Athos bowed.
“And now, gentlemen, everything is in order,” the Cardinal continued, “I know what I wished to know. Follow me.”
The three musketeers fell in behind His Eminence who again buried his face in his cloak and started his horse off at a walk, keeping some ten paces ahead of his companions.
Soon they reached the silent, solitary inn. The landlord, doubtless aware of how illustrious the visitor he expected, had got rid of all intruders. Ten paces from the door, the Cardinal signaled to his esquire and the musketeers to halt. A saddled horse stood by the wall, his bridle fastened to the shutter of the window. The Cardinal rapped against the shutter three times, in a peculiar staccato manner.