The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [237]
“Well, that’s just perfect!” said Athos. “You have the pen of a secretary of state, my dear Aramis. Lord de Winter will certainly be on his guard now, if the warning manages to reach him; and if it should fall into the hands of His Eminence himself, we will not be compromised. But as the valet who is to take it could make us believe he went to London when he stopped at Châtellerault, we’ll give him only half the sum, promising him the other half in return for the reply. Have you got the diamond?” asked Athos.
“I’ve got better than that, I’ve got the money.”
And d’Artagnan tossed the pouch on the table. At the sound of the gold, Aramis raised his eyes. Porthos gave a start. As for Athos, he remained impassive.
“How much is in that little pouch?” he asked.
“Seven thousand livres in twelve-franc louis.”
“Seven thousand livres!” cried Porthos. “That poor little diamond was worth seven thousand livres?”
“It seems so,” said Athos, “because here they are. I don’t suppose our friend d’Artagnan added any of his own.”
“But, gentlemen, in all this,” said d’Artagnan, “we’re not thinking of the queen. Let us take a little care of her dear Buckingham’s health. We owe her that at least.”
“Quite so,” said Athos, “but that’s up to Aramis.”
“Well,” replied the latter, blushing, “what must I do?”
“Why,” replied Athos, “it’s quite simple: write a second letter to that clever person who lives in Tours.”
Aramis once more took up the pen, began to reflect again, and wrote the following lines, which he submitted that same instant to the approval of his friends:
My dear Cousin,
His Eminence the cardinal, whom God preserve for the good fortune of France and the confounding of the enemies of the realm, is on the point of having done with the rebellious heretics of La Rochelle. It is probable that the help of the English fleet will not even come within sight of the place. I will even venture to say that I am certain M. de Buckingham will be prevented from setting sail by some great event. His Eminence is the most illustrious politician of times past, of the present time, and probably of times to come. He would extinguish the sun, if the sun hindered him. Give this good news to your sister, my dear cousin. I dreamed that that cursed Englishman was dead. I cannot remember whether it was by the sword or by poison; all I am sure of is that I dreamed he was dead, and, you know, my dreams never deceive me. You may be certain, then, of seeing me return very soon.
“Perfect!” cried Athos. “You are the king of poets, my dear Aramis, you speak like the Apocalypse and are as true as the Gospels. It only remains for you to address the letter.”
“That’s easy enough,” said Aramis.
He folded the letter coquettishly, turned it over, and wrote:
To Mademoiselle Marie Michon, seamstress, Tours.
The three friends looked at each other, laughing: they were caught.
“Now,” said Aramis, “you understand, gentlemen, that Bazin alone can carry this letter to Tours. My cousin knows only Bazin and trusts only him. Anyone else would thwart the affair. Besides, Bazin is ambitious and learned; Bazin has read history, gentlemen; he knows that Sixtus the Fifth became pope after tending pigs. Well, and as he counts on placing himself in the Church at the same time I do, he does not despair of becoming pope in his turn, or at least cardinal. You understand that a man with such aims won’t let himself be caught, or, if he is caught, will endure martyrdom rather than talk.”
“Very well, very well,” said d’Artagnan, “I give you Bazin; but you give me Planchet. Milady had him thrown out one day with a good many blows of the stick. Now, Planchet has an excellent memory, and, I guarantee you, if he can imagine for a moment that vengeance is possible, he’ll sooner break his back than give it