The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [239]
Each musketeer offered his own. Athos praised the discreet Grimaud who never spoke a word save when his master unlocked his mouth. Porthos boasted of the powerful Mousqueton, able single-handed to thrash four men of ordinary size. Aramis, confident in Bazin, launched into a pompous eulogy of his infinite resourcefulness. And D’Artagnan, championing Planchet’s bravery, reminded them how he had behaved in the ticklish affair at Boulogne. For a long time the virtues of discretion, strength, ingenuity and valor disputed the prize, inspiring magnificent speeches somewhat too long to reproduce here. Athos summed up the situation:
“The trouble is that the man we send must possess in himself alone all four of these qualities.”
“But where is such a lackey to be found?”
“Nowhere. He does not exist, I know. Therefore, choose Grimaud.”
“Choose Mousqueton.”
“Choose Bazin.”
“Choose Planchet. He is both brave and shrewd; thus he fulfills two of the four requisites.”
“Gentlemen,” Aramis intervened, “the point is not to decide which of our lackeys is the most discreet, the strongest, the cleverest or the bravest but which one of them is fondest of money.”
“What Aramis says is compact and of sound judgment,” Athos agreed. “We must speculate upon the faults of people and not upon their virtues. Monsieur l’Abbé, you are a great moralist.”
“I dare say,” Aramis nodded. “We require excellent service in order to succeed, granted; but there is more to it than that. We also require excellent service in order not to fail, for if ever we fail the matter involves not the heads of our lackeys but our own.”
“Speak lower,” Athos warned.
“What I have said holds good not for the lackey in question but for the master, or even for the masters,” Aramis observed significantly. “I ask you this: are our lackeys sufficiently devoted to us to risk their lives for us? No!”
“Upon my word, I would almost vouch for Planchet,” D’Artagnan said.
“Well, then, my friend, double your voucher. To his natural loyalty add a good round sum of money. Thus instead of answering for him once, answer for him twice.”
“To be disappointed just the same,” Athos grumbled, ever an optimist where things were concerned and a pessimist when it came to men. “They will promise you anything for the sake of money, but once on the road fear will prevent them from acting. Once caught, they will be pressed; once pressed, they will confess everything. Devil take it, we are not children. To reach England—” Athos lowered his voice, “—our messenger must cross most of France which is honeycombed with cardinalist spies. He needs a passport to embark. And he must know English in order to ask his way to London (if ever he lands in England!). Really the whole thing is very difficult!”
But D’Artagnan, determined that the mission be accomplished, contradicted him:
“Not at all! For my part I think it quite easy! Of course if we send Lord Winter extravagant tirades about the horrors the Cardinal perpetrates—”
“Don’t shout!” Athos warned.
“—about intrigues and secrets of state,” D’Artagnan continued, lowering his tone, “then we will all undoubtedly be broken on the wheel. But for God’s sake, don’t forget this, which you yourself mentioned, Athos: we are writing to him about family affairs, no more. Our sole purpose in communicating with him is to beg him to meet Milady the moment she reaches London and to make it impossible for her to injure us. I shall write to him more or less like this—”
“Well, let’s hear you!” Aramis broke in quietly, assuming a critical look.
D’Artagnan began phrasing his message before putting pen to paper:
“Monsieur et Cher Ami—”
Athos immediately stopped him:
“Ah, yes, D’Artagnan, you call an Englishman ‘dear friend.’ Bravo, a capital beginning! For that alone you would be quartered instead of broken on the wheel.”
“Well, then, I shall say just: Monsieur.”
“You may even say My Lord,” Athos suggested, invariably