• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 1239 0

gave proof of reflective and contemplative disposition; he therefore engaged him without further recommendation. The musketeer’s noble bearing had won Planchet over immediately and he congratulated himself on serving so elegant a gentleman, but Porthos soon disabused him by explaining that he already had a valet called Mousqueton, that his mode of life though considerable would not support two servants, and that Planchet must enter D’Artagnan’s service. However, when Planchet waited at the dinner given by his master and saw him take out a handful of gold to pay for it, he believed his fortune made and he gave thanks to Heaven for his luck in meeting such a Croesus. He persevered in this illusion even after the feast, for with its remnants he repaired his long abstinence. But when he made his master’s bed that evening, his chimeras vanished like so much smoke. D’Artagnan’s was the only bed in the apartment, which consisted of an antechamber and a bedroom; Planchet had to sleep in the antechamber on a coverlet which D’Artagnan stripped from the bed and had thenceforth to do without.

Athos, for his part, had a valet named Grimaud (the word means ignoramus and, by extension, a scribbler) whom he had trained to serve him in a singularly original manner. He was an extraordinarily taciturn man, this Athos! He had been living in the strictest intimacy with his comrades Porthos and Aramis for five or six years; during all that time they could remember having often seen him smile but they had never once heard him laugh. His words were brief and expressive, conveying all that was meant and no more, with never any embellishments, embroideries or arabesques. His conversation dealt with hard facts, with never an episode or interlude of fantasy.

Although Athos was barely thirty years old, strikingly handsome and remarkably intelligent, he was never known to have had a mistress. He never spoke of women. To be sure he never prevented others from doing so in his presence but this sort of talk, to which he contributed only bitter comment and misanthropic observations, was obviously disagreeable to him. His reserve, his severity and his silence made almost an old man of him. In order not to depart from his habits, he had accustomed Grimaud to obey his slightest gesture or a mere movement of his lips. He spoke to him only under the most exceptional circumstances.

Though Grimaud entertained a strong attachment to his master’s person and a great veneration for his character, he feared him as he feared fire. Sometimes, believing he understood what Athos desired, he would hasten to execute the order received and do precisely the contrary. Athos would then shrug his shoulders and, without losing his temper, give Grimaud a sound thrashing. On these occasions, Athos would speak a little.

Porthos, as we have already seen, was by character quite the opposite of Athos. Porthos not only talked much but he talked loudly and, to do him justice, without caring whether anybody was listening to him or not. He talked for the pleasure of talking and for the pleasure of hearing himself talk on all subjects except the sciences, explaining this omission by the inveterate hatred he had borne scholars since childhood. Less distinguished in bearing and manner than Athos, he was conscious of his inferiority; in the early days of their intimacy, this had often caused him to be unjust toward his friend, whom he sought to outshine by the brilliance of his sartorial effects. But in his simple musketeer’s uniform, with only his way of tossing back his head or of advancing his foot, Athos at once regained the place that was his due, relegating the ostentatious Porthos to a subordinate position. Porthos consoled himself by filling Monsieur de Tréville’s antechamber and the guardroom at the Louvre with his amatory triumphs, which Athos never mentioned. At the present moment, having passed from the judiciary to the military, from the legist’s lady to the warrior’s wife, Porthos was concerned with nothing less than a foreign princess who was enormously fond of him.

The old