The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [198]
“The one that was given to me, without question. You understand, d’Artagnan, I cannot insult…”
“The unknown donor,” d’Artagnan picked up.
“Or mysterious donatrice,” said Athos.
“So the one you bought has become useless to you?”
“Nearly.”
“And you chose it yourself?”
“And with the greatest care. The safety of the rider, as you know, almost always depends on his horse.”
“Well, then, let me have it for the price you paid!”
“I was going to offer it to you, my dear d’Artagnan, giving you all the time you need to pay me back for this trifle.”
“And how much did it cost you?”
“Eight hundred livres.”
“Here are forty double pistoles, my dear friend,” said d’Artagnan, taking the sum from his pocket. “I know it’s the money you were paid for your poems.”
“So you’re in funds?” asked Aramis.
“Rich, extremely rich, my dear!”
And d’Artagnan clinked the rest of the pistoles in his pocket.
“Send your saddle to the hôtel of the musketeers, and your horse will be brought here along with ours.”
“Very good. But it will soon be five o’clock, we must hurry.”
A quarter of an hour later, Porthos appeared at one end of the rue Férou on a magnificent jennet. Mousqueton followed him on an Auvergne horse, small but sturdy. Porthos shone with joy and pride.
At the same time, Aramis appeared at the other end of the street, mounted on a superb English steed. Bazin followed him on a roan, leading a vigorous Mecklenburg stallion by the reins: this was d’Artagnan’s mount.
The two musketeers met at the door; Athos and d’Artagnan watched them from the window.
“Devil take it!” said Aramis, “that’s a superb horse you’ve got there, my dear Porthos.”
“Yes,” replied Porthos, “it’s the one they should have sent me in the first place: a bad joke on the husband’s part exchanged him for the other; but the husband has since been punished, and I have obtained full satisfaction.”
Planchet and Grimaud then appeared in their turn, taking their masters’ mounts in hand. D’Artagnan and Athos went downstairs, got into the saddle beside their companions, and the four set off: Athos on the horse he owed to his wife, Aramis on the horse he owed to his mistress, Porthos on the horse he owed to his procureuse, and d’Artagnan on the horse he owed to his good luck—the best mistress of them all.
The valets followed after.
As Porthos had thought, the cavalcade made a good effect; and if Mme Coquenard had found herself in Porthos’s path and could have seen what a grand air he had on his handsome Spanish jennet, she would not have regretted the bleeding she had inflicted on her husband’s strongbox.
Near the Louvre the four friends met M. de Tréville, who was coming back from Saint-Germain. He stopped them to compliment them on their turnout, which in an instant drew around them a gaping crowd of several hundred people.
D’Artagnan profited from the occasion to speak with M. de Tréville about the letter with the big red seal and the ducal arms. Naturally, he did not breathe a word about the other letter.
M. de Tréville approved of the decision he had taken, and assured him that, if he did not show up the next day, he would manage to find him, wherever he might be.
At that moment, the clock of the Samaritaine struck six. The four friends excused themselves on account of their rendezvous and took leave of M. de Tréville.
A short gallop brought them to the road to Chaillot. Night was beginning to fall. Carriages passed back and forth. D’Artagnan, guarded by his friends from several paces away, plunged his eyes into the depths of each carriage and saw no face he knew.
At last, after a quarter of an hour’s wait and as twilight settled in, a carriage appeared, coming at a great gallop along the road from Sèvres. A presentiment told d’Artagnan that this carriage held the person who had given him the rendezvous. The young man was quite astonished himself to feel his heart beating so violently. Almost at once a woman’s head emerged from the coach door, two fingers to her lips, as if enjoining silence or blowing a kiss.