The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [179]
“In general, people ask for advice,” he used to say, “only so as not to follow it; or, if they do follow it, it’s only so as to have someone to blame for having given it.”
Porthos arrived a moment after d’Artagnan. The four friends thus found themselves together.
Their four faces expressed four different feelings: Porthos’s tranquillity, d’Artagnan’s hope, Aramis’s worry, Athos’s unconcern.
After a moment of conversation, in which Porthos let it be glimpsed that a highly placed person had kindly agreed to get him out of his difficulty, Mousqueton came in.
He came to beg Porthos to return to his lodgings, where, he said with a most pitiable air, his presence was urgently needed.
“Is it my outfit?” asked Porthos.
“Yes and no,” replied Mousqueton.
“But what, finally, do you mean to say?”
“Come, Monsieur.”
Porthos got up, bowed to his friends, and went out after Mousqueton.
A moment later, Bazin appeared in the doorway.
“What do you want of me, my friend?” asked Aramis, with that gentleness of expression which was noticeable in him each time his thoughts led him back to the Church.
“A man is awaiting Monsieur at home,” replied Bazin.
“A man? What man?”
“A beggar.”
“Give him alms, Bazin, and tell him to pray for a poor sinner.”
“This beggar wants by all means to speak to you, and claims that you will be very glad to see him.”
“Didn’t he have anything particular to tell me?”
“He did. ‘If M. Aramis hesitates to come to see me,’ he said, ‘announce to him that I have just come from Tours.’”
“From Tours?” cried Aramis. “Gentlemen, a thousand pardons, but this man has no doubt brought me news I’ve been waiting for.”
And, getting up at once, he quickly left.
Athos and d’Artagnan remained.
“I think those good fellows have found what they were after. What do you think, d’Artagnan?” said Athos.
“I know that Porthos was well on his way,” said d’Artagnan, “and, as for Aramis, to tell the truth, I was never seriously worried about him. But you, my dear Athos, you who so generously gave away the Englishman’s pistoles, which were your legitimate property, what are you going to do?”
“I’m very glad to have killed that rascal, my boy, seeing that it’s blessed bread to kill an Englishman, but if I had pocketed his pistoles, they would weigh on me like remorse.”
“Come now, my dear Athos! You really have the most inconceivable ideas!”
“Let’s drop it! What’s this I hear from M. de Tréville, who honored me with a visit yesterday, about you haunting those suspicious Englishmen who are protected by the cardinal?”
“That is, I’ve been visiting a certain Englishwoman, the one I’ve told you about.”
“Ah, yes, the blond woman about whom I gave you advice which you have naturally been careful not to follow.”
“I gave you my reasons.”
“Yes. You see your outfit in it, I believe, from what you told me.”
“Not at all! I’ve learned for certain that this woman had something to do with the abduction of Mme Bonacieux.”
“Yes, and I can understand that. To find one woman, you pay court to another: that’s the longest way, but the most amusing.”
D’Artagnan was on the point of telling Athos everything, but one thing stopped him: Athos was a strict gentleman on the point of honor, and there were, in this whole little plan our lover had made up regarding Milady, certain things which—he was sure of it beforehand—would not win the puritan’s assent. He thus preferred to keep silent, and as Athos was the least curious man on earth, d’Artagnan’s confidences stopped there.
We shall therefore leave the two friends, who had nothing very important to say to each other, and follow Aramis.
At the news that the man who wished to speak to him had just come from Tours, we have seen with what rapidity the young man went after, or rather ahead of, Bazin. He made it from the rue Férou to the rue de Vaugirard in a single bound.
On going into his place, he indeed found a small man with intelligent eyes, but