The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [235]
After lunch, they agreed to meet that evening in Athos’s quarters and there settle the matter.
D’Artagnan spent the day displaying his musketeer’s garb in all the streets of the camp.
That evening, at the appointed hour, the four friends came together. There were only three things left to decide: what to write to Milady’s brother; what to write to the clever person in Tours; and which of the lackeys would carry the letters.
Each of them offered his own. Athos spoke of the discretion of Grimaud, who only spoke when his master unstitched his lips; Porthos boasted of the strength of Mousqueton, who was big enough to thrash four men of ordinary constitution; Aramis, confident of Bazin’s cleverness, made a pompous speech in praise of his candidate; finally, d’Artagnan had complete faith in Planchet’s bravery, and recalled the way he had behaved himself in the thorny business at Boulogne.
These four virtues disputed the prize for a long time, and gave rise to magnificent speeches, which we will not record here for fear of being tedious.
“Unfortunately,” said Athos, “the one we send should combine all four of these qualities in himself.”
“But where can such a lackey be found?”
“Nowhere!” said Athos. “I know it very well: so take Grimaud.”
“Take Mousqueton.”
“Take Bazin.”
“Take Planchet. Planchet is brave and clever: that’s already two of the four qualities.”
“Gentlemen,” said Aramis, “the main thing is not to know which of our four lackeys is the most discreet, the most strong, the most clever, or the most brave; the main thing is to know which of them loves money the most.”
“What Aramis says makes great sense,” Athos picked up. “One must speculate on people’s defects, not on their virtues. Monsieur l’abbé, you are a great moralist!”
“To be sure,” replied Aramis, “for we need to be well served not only so as to succeed, but also so as not to fail; for, in case of failure, it will be the head, not of the lackeys…”
“Not so loud, Aramis!” said Athos.
“Right, not of the lackeys,” Aramis went on, “but of the master, and even the masters! Are our valets devoted to us enough to risk their lives for us? No.”
“By heaven,” said d’Artagnan, “I’d almost vouch for Planchet.”
“Well, then, my dear friend, add to his natural devotion a good sum of money, which will give him some independence, and instead of vouching for him once, you can vouch for him twice.”
“Ah, good God, you’ll be deceived all the same!” said Athos, who was an optimist when it came to things, but a pessimist when it came to men. “They’ll promise everything to get the money, and along the way fear will keep them from acting. Once caught, they’ll be squeezed; squeezed, they’ll confess. Devil take it, we’re not children! To go to England,” Athos lowered his voice, “one must cross through France, which is strewn with the cardinal’s spies and creatures. One must have a pass to take ship. One must know enough English to ask the way to London. It all looks rather difficult to me.”
“Not at all,” said d’Artagnan, who was very keen on having the thing accomplished. “On the contrary, to me it looks easy. It goes without saying, parbleu, that if we write enormities to Lord de Winter about the horrors of the cardinal…”
“Not so loud!” said Athos.
“About intrigues and state secrets,” d’Artagnan went on, complying with the recommendation, “it goes without saying that we’ll all be broken on the wheel. But, for God’s sake, don’t forget, as you yourself have said, Athos, that we are writing to him about a family matter; that we are writing to him with the sole purpose of having him make it so that Milady, once she reaches London, is unable do us harm. So I’ll write him a letter more or less in these terms…”
“Let’s hear,” said Aramis, putting on a critical face beforehand.
“‘Dear Sir and Good Friend…’”
“Oh, yes! ‘Good friend,’ to an Englishman,” interrupted Athos. “A fine beginning! Bravo, d’Artagnan! For that word alone you’ll be drawn and quartered, if not broken on the wheel.”
“Well, all right, I’ll