The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [38]
“Barely a young man, who even bore himself so perfectly on this occasion that I will take the liberty of recommending him to Your Majesty.”
“What’s his name?”
“D’Artagnan, Sire. He’s the son of one of my oldest friends; the son of a man who was in the partisan wars with the king, your father, of glorious memory.”
“And you say he bore himself well, this young man? Tell me about it, Tréville; you know how I love stories of war and combat.”
And King Louis XIII put one hand on his hip and with the other proudly twirled his mustache.
“Sire,” Tréville picked up, “as I told you, M. d’Artagnan is almost a boy, and as he does not have the honor of being a musketeer, he was in civilian dress. M. le cardinal’s guards, perceiving his extreme youth and, what’s more, that he was a stranger to the corps, invited him to withdraw before they attacked.”
“So you see, Tréville,” the king interrupted, “it was they who attacked.”
“That’s right, Sire, there’s no further doubt. So they called on him to withdraw, but he replied that he was a musketeer at heart and all for His Majesty, and that he would remain with the gentlemen musketeers.”
“Brave young man!” murmured the king.
“Indeed, he did remain with them; and Your Majesty has so firm a champion in him that it was he who gave Jussac that terrible stroke of the sword which so greatly angers M. le cardinal.”
“It was he who wounded Jussac?” cried the king. “He, a mere boy? That’s impossible, Tréville!”
“It is as I have the honor of telling Your Majesty.”
“Jussac? One of the best blades in the realm?”
“Well, then, Sire, he has met his master.”
“I want to see this young man, Tréville. I want to see him, and if something can be done, well, then we shall take care of it.”
“When would Your Majesty deign to receive him?”
“Tomorrow at noon, Tréville.”
“Shall I bring him alone?”
“No, bring me all four of them. I want to thank them all at the same time. Devoted men are rare, Tréville, and devotion must be rewarded.”
“At noon, Sire, we shall be at the Louvre.”
“Ah! by the back stairs, Tréville, by the back stairs. There’s no use in the cardinal’s knowing…”
“Yes, Sire.”
“You understand, Tréville, an edict is an edict; fighting is forbidden, when all’s said.”
“But this encounter, Sire, lies completely outside the ordinary conditions of a duel: it was a brawl, and the proof is that there were five of the cardinal’s guards against my three musketeers and M. d’Artagnan.”
“That’s right,” said the king, “but never mind, Tréville, still come by the back stairs.”
Tréville smiled. But since it was already a great deal for him to have made this child revolt against his master, he bowed respectfully to the king, and with his permission took leave of him.
That same evening, the three musketeers were informed of the honor that had been accorded them. As they had known the king for a long time, they were not too excited; but d’Artagnan, with his Gascon imagination, saw in it his approaching good fortune, and spent the night in golden dreams. By eight o’clock in the morning, he was at Athos’s place.
D’Artagnan found the musketeer dressed and ready to go out. As their meeting with the king was only at noon, he had made plans with Porthos and Aramis to go and play tennis at a sporting house near the Luxembourg stables. Athos invited d’Artagnan to go with them, and despite his ignorance of the game, which he had never played, he accepted, not knowing what else to do with his time from barely nine in the morning till noon.
The two musketeers had already arrived and were batting the ball around. Athos, who was very good at all physical exercises, went with d’Artagnan to the other side and challenged them. But with the first movement he made, though he was playing with his left hand, he understood that his wound was still too recent to allow him such exercise. D’Artagnan thus remained alone, and as he declared that he was too clumsy to keep up a regulation game, they simply went on hitting balls back and forth without counting points. But one of these balls, sped by the herculean