The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [41]
The advice was too reasonable and above all came from a man who knew the king too well for the four young men to try struggling against it. M. de Tréville invited them to go each to his own home and wait for his news.
On going into his hôtel, M. de Tréville reflected that he ought to steal a march by making the first complaint. He sent one of his servants to M. de La Trémouille with a letter in which he begged him to expel M. le cardinal’s guards from his house and to reprimand his people for having the audacity to make a sortie against the musketeers. But M. de La Trémouille, already informed by his equerry, who, as we know, was Bernajoux’s relation, replied to him that it was neither for M. de Tréville nor for his musketeers to complain, but, quite the contrary, for him whose people had been attacked by the musketeers and whose hôtel they had wanted to burn. Now, as the debate between these two lords could have lasted a long time, each of them naturally holding stubbornly to his opinion, M. de Tréville devised an expedient aimed at ending it all: this was to go to see M. de La Trémouille himself.
So he went at once to his hôtel and had himself announced.
The two lords greeted each other politely, for, if there was no friendship between them, there was at least respect. They were both men of courage and of honor; and as M. de La Trémouille, a Protestant, and rarely in the king’s presence, was of no party, he generally brought no prejudice to his social relations. This time, nevertheless, his welcome, though polite, was colder than usual.
“Monsieur,” said M. de Tréville, “each of us believes he has a complaint against the other, and I have come to you myself so that together we can bring this affair to light.”
“Gladly,” replied M. de La Trémouille. “But I warn you that I am well informed, and the fault lies entirely with your musketeers.”
“Monsieur, you are too just and reasonable a man,” said M. de Tréville, “not to accept the proposition I am going to make.”
“Make it, Monsieur, I’m listening.”
“How is M. Bernajoux, your equerry’s relation?”
“Why, very bad, Monsieur. Besides the wound he received in the arm, which is not especially dangerous, he acquired another that went through the lung, about which the doctor has very poor things to say.”
“But has the wounded man remained conscious?”
“Perfectly.”
“Can he speak?”
“With difficulty, but he can.”
“Well, then, Monsieur, let us go to him; let us make him swear by the name of God, before whom he is perhaps about to be summoned, to tell the truth. I will take him as judge of his own case, Monsieur, and what he says, I will believe.”
M. de La Trémouille reflected a moment; then, as it was difficult to make a more reasonable proposition, he accepted.
They both went down to the room where the wounded man lay. The latter, on seeing these two noble lords coming to visit him, attempted to raise himself on his bed, but he was too weak, and, exhausted by the effort, fell back almost unconscious.
M. de La Trémouille went up to him and held smelling salts to his nose, which brought him back to life. Then M. de Tréville, not wanting anyone to be able to say he had influenced the sick man, invited M. de La Trémouille to question him himself.
It happened as M. de Tréville had foreseen. Hovering between life and death as Bernajoux was, he never even thought for a moment of concealing the truth, and told the two lords everything exactly as it had happened.
That was all M. de Tréville wanted. He wished Bernajoux a quick recovery, took leave of M. de La Trémouille, went back to his hôtel, and immediately notified the four friends that he was expecting them for dinner.
M. de Tréville received the very best company—all anti-cardinalist to boot. It is understandable, then, that the conversation throughout dinner turned to the two defeats His Eminence’s guards had just suffered. Now, since d’Artagnan had been the hero of both days, it was upon him that most of the congratulations