The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [44]
He was a Norman rejoicing under the pacific name of Boniface (a term applied to artless or witless persons) until Porthos made him change it to the infinitely more sonorous name of Mousqueton. He agreed to serve Porthos on condition he be merely clothed and lodged, but on a handsome scale; in return, he worked elsewhere two hours a day at a job which provided for his other wants. Porthos accepted the bargain for it suited him perfectly. He would have doublets fashioned out of his old clothes and spare cloaks for Mousqueton; thus, thanks to a very skilful tailor who made the clothes look as good as new by turning them (his wife was suspected of wishing to lure Porthos away from his aristocratic habits) Mousqueton cut a very dashing figure when he waited upon his master.
As for Aramis, we believe we have presented his character clearly enough; besides, we shall be able to follow it and those of his companions in their development. His lackey was named Bazin and he came from the province of Berry. Because his master hoped to take Holy Orders, the servant was always clad in black, as becomes the domestic of a churchman. He was a man of about thirty-five or forty, mild, peaceable and chubby. In his spare time, he would read pious words; when required, he could whip up a dinner for the two of them that boasted few dishes but excellently prepared. In conclusion, he was dumb, blind, deaf and of unimpeachable loyalty.
Now that we are at least superficially familiar with the masters and lackeys, let us summarily observe the quarters they occupied.
Athos lived in the Rue Férou, within two steps of the Luxembourg. His apartment consisted of two small rooms, agreeably furnished, in a lodging house maintained by a woman, still young and really handsome, who cast warm, tender glances at him in vain. Here and there the walls of his humble abode shone with vestiges of past splendors. There was, for instance, a richly embossed sword which obviously belonged to the age of François I; its hilt, studded with precious stones, was alone worth two hundred pistoles. Yet in his moments of direst need, Athos had never sought to pawn or sell it. This sword had long been an object of immense envy to Porthos who would have given ten years of his life to possess it.
One day, having an appointment with a duchess, he tried to borrow it. Athos, without saying a word, emptied his pockets, gathered all his jewels, purses, aglets and gold chains, and offered the lot to Porthos. As for the sword, he told him, it was sealed to the wall and would not come down until its master moved out of these lodgings.
In addition to this sword, there was a portrait of a nobleman of the time of Henry III, dressed with the greatest elegance and wearing the blue ribbon of the Order of the Holy Ghost. Certain features common to the subject of the portrait and Athos indicated that this great lord, a Knight of the Order of the King, was his ancestor.
Besides these, a casket of magnificent goldwork, bearing the same crest as sword and portrait and forming a middle ornament to the mantelpiece, displayed a massive elegance utterly out of keeping with the rest of the furniture. Athos always carried the key to this casket on his person. But one day he chanced to open it in the presence of Porthos who was convinced that it contained nothing but letters and papers—love-letters, doubtless, and family papers. . . .
Porthos lived in an apartment of vast dimensions and very sumptuous appearance in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier. Whenever he chanced to stroll by with a friend, he would point to his windows, at one of which Mousqueton was certain to be standing, dressed in full livery, and, raising head and hand, exclaim sententiously:
“That is where I live!”
Yet as he was never to be found at home and never invited anybody in, the true riches of this palatial residence remained a mystery. . . .
As for Aramis, his