The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [54]
“All the same, it seems to me—”
“Come, gentlemen, come,” said D’Artagnan, aloud. “I have no reason to defend Monsieur here. I saw him today for the first time in my life. He can tell you in what circumstances we met; he came to collect the rent for my lodgings. Is this true or no, Monsieur Bonacieux? Answer!”
“That is quite true,” the landlord answered. “But Monsieur has not told you—”
“Not a word about me, not a word about my friends, and above all, not a word about the Queen, or you will ruin everybody without saving yourself!” D’Artagnan cautioned Bonacieux. Then aloud to the bailiffs: “Come, gentlemen, take this fellow away!” With which he pushed the stunned haberdasher into the arms of the bailiffs. “You are a fine rascal, my man,” he told Bonacieux. “Imagine coming to dun me for money—me, a musketeer! Away with him, take him to prison! Gentlemen, once again I beg you, take him into custody and keep him behind bars as long as ever you can. That will give me time to pay him.”
The myrmidons of the law, mouthing their thanks, took away their prey. But just as they were about to go downstairs, D’Artagnan clapped their leader on the shoulder:
“Come, I must drink to your health and you to mine!” he said jovially, filling two glasses with the Beaugency he owed to Monsieur Bonacieux’s liberality.
“You do me too much honor,” said the leader of the posse, “I accept, and thanks for your kindness, I’m sure.”
“Well then, here’s to you, Monsieur—Monsieur—? What is your name?”
“Boisrenard.”
“Your health, then, Monsieur Boisrenard.”
“To yours, honored gentleman! And what is your name, if I may make so bold—?”
“D’Artagnan.”
“Here’s to your health, Monsieur.”
“But first and foremost, above all healths,” cried D’Artagnan, as if carried away by his enthusiasm, “I drink to the King and the Cardinal!”
Had the wine been bad, the bailiff might have questioned D’Artagnan’s sincerity; but the wine was good, and he was convinced.
“What devilish villainy have you been up to?” Porthos inquired after the bailiff had joined his companions. “Shame on us, shame! Four musketeers have just stood by without moving a finger and allowed an unfortunate fellow who called for help to be arrested under their very noses! And the gentleman responsible for all this has to hobnob with a bailiff. For shame!”
“Look here, Porthos,” Aramis said. “Athos has already told you that you are a simpleton. May I add that I completely share his opinion? As for you, D’Artagnan, you are a great man. When you step into Monsieur de Tréville’s shoes—as undoubtedly you will—I shall ask you to use your influence to secure me an abbey.”
“Well, I am in a maze,” Porthos exclaimed. “Do you mean to say you approve of what D’Artagnan did?”
“Why of course I do!” Athos told him. “I not only approve of it but I offer him my heartiest congratulations.”
“And now, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan without troubling to explain his conduct to Porthos, “All for One and One for All—that is our motto, is it not?”
“But still, look here, I—” Porthos demurred.
“Hold up your hand and swear!” Athos commanded.
“Swear, man!” Aramis insisted.
Overcome by the example of his comrades yet grumbling nevertheless, Porthos raised his hand and, with one voice, the four friends repeated the slogan dictated by D’Artagnan:
“All for One and One for All!”
“Excellent!” D’Artagnan approved. And as though he had done nothing all his life save issue orders: “Let us each go his own way now. And remember! From this moment on, we are at war with His Eminence the Cardinal!”
X
CONCERNING A MOUSETRAP IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
The invention of the mousetrap is not a modern one. When, long ago, human societies, in the process of formation, invented the police, the police invented the mousetrap.
As most of our readers are still unfamiliar with the slang of the Rue de Jérusalem and as fifteen years have elapsed since we applied the word mousetrap to the thing in question, it is perhaps pertinent to