The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [203]
It was this fear that held him back, so strong is the influence of a truly great character on all around him.
D’Artagnan went down the same stairway he had gone up, and found Athos and the four musketeers at the door, waiting for his return and beginning to worry. A word from d’Artagnan reassured them, and Planchet ran to inform the other posts that there was no need to mount guard any longer, seeing that his master had emerged safe and sound from the Palais Cardinal.
Back at Athos’s, Aramis and Porthos asked about the causes of this strange rendezvous; but d’Artagnan contented himself with telling them that M. de Richelieu had invited him in order to propose that he join his guards with the rank of ensign, and that he had refused.
“And right you were,” cried Porthos and Aramis with one voice.
Athos fell into deep thought and made no reply. But when he was alone with d’Artagnan, he said:
“You’ve done what you should have done, but perhaps you were wrong.”
D’Artagnan heaved a sigh, for this voice answered to a secret voice in his soul, which told him that great misfortunes were in store for him.
The next day was spent in preparations for departure. D’Artagnan went to say good-bye to M. de Tréville. At that time it was still thought that the separation of the guards and musketeers would be momentary; the king was holding his parliament that same day and was to set out on the next. M. de Tréville thus contented himself with asking d’Artagnan if he had need of him, but d’Artagnan proudly replied that he had all he required.
Night brought together all the comrades of the company of M. des Essarts’s guards and the company of M. de Tréville’s musketeers, who had become friends. They were separating, to see each other again when it pleased God and if it pleased God. The night was thus a most rollicking one, as one might think, for in such cases extreme anxiety can only be combated by extreme insouciance.
The next day, at the first sound of the trumpets, the friends parted: the musketeers rushed to the hôtel of M. de Tréville, the guards to that of M. des Essarts. Each captain at once led his company to the Louvre, where the king held his review.
The king was sad and seemed unwell, which took from him some of his noble bearing. Indeed, the evening before, he had come down with a fever in the midst of the parliament and while he was holding his bed of justice. He was nonetheless determined to leave that same evening; and, despite the observations that had been made to him, he had wished to hold his review, hoping to defeat the illness that was beginning to come over him by striking a vigorous first blow.
After the review, the guards set out on the march alone; the musketeers were to leave only with the king, which allowed Porthos, in his superb outfit, to go around to the rue aux Ours.
The procureuse saw him pass by in his new uniform and on his handsome horse. She loved Porthos too much to let him go like that; she made a sign for him to dismount and come to her. Porthos was magnificent: his spurs jingled, his breastplate shone, his sword clanked proudly against his thigh. This time the clerks felt no desire to laugh, so much did Porthos have the look of a clipper of ears.
The musketeer was brought to see M. Coquenard, whose little gray eye gleamed with anger on seeing his cousin all flaming new. Yet he had one inner consolation: everyone was saying it would be a hard campaign. He hoped very quietly, at the bottom of his heart, that Porthos would be killed.
Porthos presented his compliments to Master Coquenard and bade him farewell. Master Coquenard wished him every sort of prosperity. As for Mme Coquenard, she could not hold back her tears. But no bad conclusions were drawn from her grief. She was known to be very attached to her relatives, over whom she had always had such bitter disputes with her husband.
But the real farewells took place in Mme Coquenard