The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [48]
He, for his part, was thinking seriously of it, racking his brain to find a direction for this single force four times multiplied. And the longer he meditated, the surer he became that, as with the lever Archimedes sought, Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D’Artagnan would succeed in moving the world. Suddenly there was a light knock at the door; D’Artagnan awakened Planchet and ordered him to open it.
(The phrase “D’Artagnan awakened Planchet” must not lead the reader to believe that it was night or that day had not yet broken. No, it was afternoon; it had just struck four. Two hours before, Planchet had asked his master for some dinner, to which D’Artagnan replied by quoting the proverb “Qui dort, dîne; he who sleeps, dines.” And Planchet dined by sleeping.)
A stranger entered, a man of unassuming appearance, obviously a simple bourgeois. Planchet would have relished, by way of dessert, to overhear the conversation, but the man told D’Artagnan that what he had to say was both important and confidential, and solicited a private interview. D’Artagnan therefore dismissed his valet and requested his visitor to be seated. During the short silence that ensued, the two men looked at each other appraisingly. Then D’Artagnan bowed, to signify that he was ready to listen. The stranger began:
“I have heard Monsieur spoken of as a very courageous young man. This well-deserved reputation emboldens me to confide a secret to him.”
“Speak, Monsieur, speak,” D’Artagnan replied, instinctively sensing that the matter might prove profitable.
The stranger paused again, then went on:
“I have a wife who is seamstress to Her Majesty the Queen. My wife is not lacking in either virtue or beauty. Though she brought but a small dowry, I was induced to marry her about three years ago because Monsieur de La Porte, the Queen’s cloakbearer, is her godfather and befriends her.”
“Well, Monsieur?”
“Well, Monsieur,” the stranger repeated, “well, Monsieur, my wife was abducted yesterday morning as she was leaving her workroom.”
“By whom was your wife abducted?”
“I know nothing for certain, Monsieur, but I have my suspicions.”
“And whom do you suspect?”
“A man who has been pursuing her for a long time.”
“The devil you say—”
“Let me add this, Monsieur: I am convinced that there is more politics than love in this business.”
“More politics than love?” D’Artagnan murmured with a thoughtful air. “And what do you suspect?”
“I hardly know whether I should tell you what I suspect—”
“I beg you to observe, Monsieur, that I am asking absolutely nothing of you; it was you who came to me to tell me that you had a secret to confide in me. Do just as you please; it is not too late to withdraw.”
“No, Monsieur, you seem to be an honest young man and I have confidence in you. Frankly, I do not believe my wife has been arrested because of any love affair of her own but rather because of the conduct of a lady far mightier than herself.”
“Ah ha! I see!” D’Artagnan commented knowingly and, pretending to be familiar with Court affairs, he added:
“Can it be on account of the amours of Madame de Bois-Tracy?”
“Higher, Monsieur, higher.”
“Of Madame d’Aiguillon?”
“Higher still, Monsieur.”
“Of Madame de Chevreuse?”
“Higher, much higher.”
“Of the—” D’Artagnan checked himself.
“Yes, Monsieur,” his terrified visitor replied so low as to be almost inaudible.
“And with whom?”
“With whom else could it be save with the Duke of—?”
“The Duke of—?” D’Artagnan repeated, hiding his ignorance and bewilderment.
“Yes, Monsieur,” the stranger interrupted, even more faintly than before.
“But how do you know all this?”
“How do I know it?”
“Exactly: how do you know it? No half-confidences now, or—you understand?”
“I know it through my wife, Monsieur, I heard it from her own lips!”
“And your wife? Where did