The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [102]
D’Artagnan wrote out his demand, and M. de Tréville, in receiving it into his hands, assured him that before two o’clock in the morning the four leaves would be at the travelers’ respective domiciles.
“Be so good as to send mine to Athos,” said d’Artagnan. “I’m afraid if I go home I may run into trouble.”
“Rest assured. Good-bye and good journey! By the way!” said M. de Tréville, calling him back.
D’Artagnan retraced his steps.
“Do you have any money?”
D’Artagnan jingled the pouch he had in his pocket.
“Enough?”
“Three hundred pistoles.”
“Very good; you could go to the end of the world on that. Off with you, then.”
D’Artagnan bowed to M. de Tréville, who held out his hand to him. D’Artagnan shook it with a respect mixed with gratitude. Since his arrival in Paris, he had had nothing but praise for this excellent man, whom he had always found to be worthy, loyal, and magnanimous.
His first visit was to Aramis. He had not been back to his friend’s place since the famous evening when he had followed Mme Bonacieux. More than that: he had scarcely seen the young musketeer, and each time he had met him, he had thought he noticed a profound sadness imprinted on his face.
This evening as well, Aramis sat looking sombre and dreamy. D’Artagnan asked him a few questions about this profound melancholy; Aramis excused himself with a commentary on the eighteenth chapter of St. Augustine,84 which he had to write in Latin for the following week, and which preoccupied him greatly.
The two friends had been talking for a few moments when a servant of M. de Tréville’s came in carrying a sealed packet.
“What’s that?” asked Aramis.
“The leave Monsieur requested,” replied the lackey.
“I requested no leave.”
“Be quiet and take it,” said d’Artagnan. “And you, my friend, here’s a half pistole for your trouble. Tell M. de Tréville that M. Aramis sincerely thanks him. Off you go.”
The lackey bowed to the ground and left.
“What does this mean?” asked Aramis.
“Take what you’ll need for a two-week journey and follow me.”
“But I can’t leave Paris at this moment, without knowing…”
Aramis stopped.
“What’s become of her, is that it?” d’Artagnan continued.
“Who?” Aramis picked up.
“The woman who was here, the woman of the embroidered handkerchief.”
“Who told you there was a woman here?” replied Aramis, turning pale as death.
“I saw her.”
“And do you know who she is?”
“I think I can guess, at least.”
“Listen,” said Aramis, “since you know so much, do you know what’s become of that woman?”
“I presume she’s gone back to Tours.”
“To Tours? Yes, that’s it, you do know her. But why did she go back to Tours without saying anything to me?”
“Because she was afraid of being arrested.”
“Why hasn’t she written to me?”
“Because she’s afraid of compromising you.”
“D’Artagnan, you’ve restored me to life!” cried Aramis. “I thought I was scorned, betrayed. I was so happy to see her again! I couldn’t believe she had risked her freedom for me, and yet what cause could have brought her back to Paris?”
“The same cause that’s taking us to England today.”
“And what cause is that?” asked Aramis.
“You’ll find out one day, Aramis, but for the moment I’ll imitate the discretion of the doctor’s niece.”
Aramis smiled, for he recalled the story he had told his friends on a certain evening.
“Well, then, since she has left Paris and you’re sure of it, d’Artagnan, nothing else keeps me, and I’m ready to follow you. You say we’re going to…”
“To Athos’s place right now, and if you want to come, I even invite you to make haste, for we’ve already lost a lot of time. Inform Bazin, by the way.”
“Is Bazin coming with us?” asked Aramis.
“Maybe. In any case, it will be good if he comes with us to Athos’s right now.”
Aramis summoned Bazin and ordered him to join them at Athos’s place.
“Let’s go, then,” he said, taking his