The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [73]
“My wife? Escaped? Poor, poor woman! If she escaped, I swear it is no fault of mine!”
“You visited your neighbor Monsieur d’Artagnan yesterday. You had a long conversation with him. What was your business?”
“Yes, yes, Monsieur le Commissaire, yes, it is true, I confess I acted foolishly in visiting Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“The purpose of your visit?”
“I called to beg him to help me find my wife again. I thought I was right in looking for her. But apparently I was wrong and I beg your pardon most humbly.”
“How did Monsieur d’Artagnan react to your proposal?”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan promised to help me. Alas, I soon realized that he was betraying me.”
“You are attempting to obstruct justice, my good man. Do you deny that Monsieur d’Artagnan agreed to drive away the police officers? Do you deny that he kept your wife in hiding?”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan abducted my wife! Monsieur le Commissaire, what on earth do you mean?”
“Fortunately Monsieur d’Artagnan is in our hands. We shall at once confront you with him.”
“By my faith, I ask for nothing better,” cried Bonacieux. “I shall not be sorry to see the face of somebody I know.”
“Show Monsieur d’Artagnan in,” the Commissioner ordered. The guards admitted Athos.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the Commissioner, “will you please state what happened between you and Monsieur here?”
“But Monsieur,” Bonacieux objected, “this is not Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“What? This is not Monsieur d’Artagnan?”
“No, not by any manner of means.”
“Then what is Monsieur’s name?”
“I cannot tell you, Monsieur le Commissaire. I do not know this gentleman.”
“You do not know him?”
“No, Monsieur.”
“You have never seen him?”
“Yes, I have seen him, but I do not know his name.”
“Your name, Monsieur,” snapped the Commissioner.
“Athos,” the musketeer replied.
“That is not a man’s name,” the wretched interrogator protested, losing his head. “Athos is the name of a mountain.”
“Athos is nevertheless my name.”
“But you said your name was D’Artagnan?”
“I said that?”
“Certainly you did.”
“No, Monsieur le Commissaire. Somebody asked me was I Monsieur d’Artagnan; I said: ‘Do you really think so.’ The guards declared they were positive I was D’Artagnan. Who was I to contradict them? After all, I might have been wrong about my own identity.”
“Monsieur, you are insulting the majesty of the law.”
“In no wise, Monsieur.”
“You are Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“There, you see, once again I hear I am Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“Monsieur le Commissaire,” Bonacieux interrupted, “I can tell you there is not the least doubt about the matter. Monsieur d’Artagnan is my lodger and, though he does not pay his rent, or rather because he does not pay his rent, I most certainly know him. Monsieur d’Artagnan is a youth barely nineteen or twenty years old; this gentleman here must be at least thirty. Monsieur d’Artagnan serves in the Guards under Monsieur des Essarts; this gentleman belongs to Monsieur de Tréville’s Musketeers. Just look at his uniform, Monsieur le Commissaire, look at his uniform.”
“By God, that’s true!” the Commissioner gasped. But before he could take action, the door swung open and one of the gatekeepers of the Bastille introduced a messenger who handed the Commissioner a letter.
“Oh, poor woman, poor woman!” sighed the Commissioner, as he finished reading the message.
“What’s that? What did you say? Whom are you talking about? Not my wife, I hope.”
“Precisely: your wife. You’re in plenty of trouble now, believe me!”
“But look here, Monsieur le Commissaire,” cried the haberdasher, overcome, “will you be good enough to tell me how I can get into worse trouble because of what my wife may be doing while I languish in prison?”
“It is quite simple. Your wife is carrying out the diabolical plans which the pair of you previously agreed upon.”
“I swear to you, Monsieur le Commissaire, that you are making a most tragic mistake. I know nothing about what my wife was supposed to be doing, I am completely foreign to what she may have done, and if she has made a fool of herself, I renounce her, I abjure her, I curse