The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [155]
“But he won’t want just one harness.”
“Stake them both, pardieu! I’m no egotist like you.”
“You’d do that?” asked d’Artagnan, hesitating. Athos’s confidence was beginning to win him over without his knowing it.
“Word of honor, on a single throw.”
“But since we’ve lost the horses, I had great hopes of keeping the harnesses.”
“Stake your diamond, then.”
“Oh, that’s something else again! Never, never!”
“Devil take it,” said Athos, “I’d gladly propose that you stake Planchet, but as it’s already been done, the Englishman might not want any more of it.”
“Decidedly, my dear Athos,” said d’Artagnan, “I’d much rather risk nothing.”
“Too bad,” Athos said coldly, “the Englishman’s stuffed with pistoles. Ah, my God, try one throw, one throw takes no time!”
“And what if I lose?”
“You’ll win.”
“But if I lose?”
“Well, then you’ll give up the harnesses.”
“It’s worth a try,” said d’Artagnan.
Athos went in search of the Englishman and found him in the stable, where he was studying the harnesses with a lustful eye. It was a good opportunity. He laid down his conditions: the two harnesses against the choice of a horse or a hundred pistoles. The Englishman made a quick calculation: the two harnesses were worth three hundred pistoles together. He went along.
D’Artagnan threw the dice all atremble and rolled a three; his paleness frightened Athos, who contented himself with saying:
“That was a sorry throw, friend. You’ll have your horses all harnessed, Monsieur.”
The triumphant Englishman did not even bother to shake the dice; he threw them on the table without looking, so sure he was of victory. D’Artagnan had turned away to hide his ill humor.
“Well, well, well,” said Athos in his calm voice, “that’s an extraordinary throw of the dice. I’ve seen it just four times in my life: two aces!”
The Englishman looked and was overcome with astonishment. D’Artagnan looked and was overcome with delight.
“Yes,” Athos went on, “only four times: once at M. de Créquy’s;123 another time at home in the country, in my château of…when I had a château; a third time at M. de Tréville’s, where it surprised us all; and finally a fourth time in a tavern, where it fell to me, and I lost a hundred louis and a supper on it.”
“So Monsieur is taking back his horse?” said the Englishman.
“To be sure,” said d’Artagnan.
“So there’s to be no revenge?”
“Our conditions stipulated no revenge, don’t you remember?”
“That’s true. The horse will be turned over to your valet, Monsieur.”
“One moment,” said Athos. “With your permission, Monsieur, I ask to have a word with my friend.”
“Go on.”
Athos drew d’Artagnan aside.
“Well,” d’Artagnan said to him, “what more do you want of me, tempter? You want me to keep playing, is that it?”
“No, I want you to reflect.”
“On what?”
“You’re going to take back your horse, aren’t you?”
“Certainly.”
“You’re wrong. I’d take the hundred pistoles. You know you staked the harnesses against your choice of the horse or a hundred pistoles.”
“Yes.”
“I’d take the hundred pistoles.”
“Well, I’m taking the horse.”
“And I repeat that you’re wrong. What will we do with one horse for the two of us? I can’t ride on the croup; we’ll look like two sons of Aymon who have lost their brothers.124 You can’t humiliate me by riding alongside me mounted on that magnificent steed. I wouldn’t waver for an instant, I’d take the hundred pistoles, we need money to get back to Paris.”
“I’m keen on that horse, Athos.”
“And you’re quite wrong, my friend. A horse will shy, a horse will stumble and break its knees, a horse will eat from a rack that a glandered horse has eaten from—and there goes your horse, or rather your hundred pistoles. The master has to feed his horse, whereas a hundred pistoles will feed their master.”
“But how will we get back?”
“On our lackeys’ horses, pardieu! It will always be clear from the look of our faces that we’re people of quality.”
“What a fine