The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [303]
“As you see,” said Athos, indicating to Lord de Winter the dead Mme Bonacieux, and d’Artagnan, whom Porthos and Aramis were trying to revive.
“Are they both dead, then?” Lord de Winter asked coldly.
“No, fortunately,” replied Athos, “M. d’Artagnan has simply fainted.”
“Ah, so much the better!” said Lord de Winter.
Indeed, at that moment d’Artagnan opened his eyes again.
He tore himself from the arms of Porthos and Aramis and threw himself like a madman on the body of his mistress.
Athos got up, went to his friend with a slow and solemn step, embraced him tenderly, and, as he burst into sobs, said to him in his noble and impressive voice:
“Be a man, my friend: women weep for the dead, men avenge them!”
“Oh, yes!” said d’Artagnan, “yes, if it’s to avenge her, I’m ready to follow you!”
Athos profited from this moment of strength, which the hope of vengeance had restored to his unfortunate friend, to make a sign for Porthos and Aramis to go and fetch the mother superior.
The two friends met her in the corridor, still all upset and distraught from so many events. She summoned several nuns, who, against all monastic custom, found themselves in the presence of five men.
“Madame,” said Athos, taking d’Artagnan’s arm under his own, “we leave to your pious care the body of this unfortunate woman. She was an angel on earth before being an angel in heaven. Treat her as one of your sisters; we shall come back one day to pray on her grave.”
D’Artagnan hid his face on Athos’s chest and burst into sobs.
“Weep,” said Athos, “weep, heart filled with love, youth, and life! Alas, I wish I could weep like you!”
And, affectionate as a father, comforting as a priest, great as a man who has suffered much, he led his friend away.
All five, followed by their valets who led their horses by the bridle, went towards the town of Béthune, whose outskirts they could see, and stopped at the first inn they came to.
“But,” said d’Artagnan, “aren’t we going to go after that woman?”
“Later,” said Athos. “There are measures I must take.”
“She’ll escape us,” said the young man, “she’ll escape us, and it will be your fault.”
“I’ll answer for her,” said Athos.
D’Artagnan had such confidence in his friend’s word that he bowed his head and went into the inn without any reply.
Porthos and Aramis looked at each other, not understanding Athos’s assurance at all.
Lord de Winter thought he spoke that way to soften d’Artagnan’s grief.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Athos, when he had made sure that there were five vacant rooms in the hotel, “let us each retire to his own room. D’Artagnan needs to be alone to weep, and you to sleep. Don’t worry, I take everything upon myself.”
“It seems to me, however,” said Lord de Winter, “that if there are measures to be taken against the countess, that is my concern: she is my sister-in-law.”
“Yes,” said Athos, “but she is my wife.”
D’Artagnan shuddered, for he understood that Athos was certain of his vengeance, since he had given away such a secret. Porthos and Aramis looked at each other and turned pale. Lord de Winter thought Athos was mad.
“Retire, then,” said Athos, “and leave it to me. You see very well that, in my quality as husband, it is my concern. Only, d’Artagnan, if you haven’t lost it, give me back the paper which fell from that man’s hat and had the name of a town written on it.”
“Ah!” said d’Artagnan, “I understand, the name was written in her hand…”
“So you see,” said Athos, “there is a God in heaven!”
LXIV
THE MAN IN THE RED CLOAK
Athos’s despair had given way to a concentrated grief, which made the man’s brilliant mental faculties still more lucid.
Given entirely to one thought, that of the promise he had made and the responsibility he had taken on,