The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [45]
“And so, Sire, Your Majesty can see that they have come to you all contrite and repentant to make you their apologies.”
“All contrite and repentant! Hm!” said the king. “I don’t trust their hypocritical faces, above all that Gascon-looking one. Come here, Monsieur.”
D’Artagnan, who understood that the compliment was addressed to him, approached, putting on the most desperate air.
“Well, now, what did you mean by telling me he was a young man? He’s a boy, M. de Tréville, a mere boy! And it was he who gave that mighty stroke to Jussac?”
“And those two fine strokes to Bernajoux.”
“Really!”
“Not to mention,” said Athos, “that if he hadn’t taken me out of Cahusac’s hands, I would most certainly not have the honor of making my most humble bow before Your Majesty at this moment.”
“Why, he’s a veritable demon then, this Béarnais—eh, M. de Tréville? Ventre-saint-gris! as the king my father used to say. In that trade, you have to pierce many a doublet and break many a blade. Now, Gascons are always poor, are they not?”
“Sire, I must say that they have yet to find gold mines in their mountains, though the Lord owes them that miracle in reward for the way they upheld the claims of the king your father.”
“Which is to say that it was the Gascons who made me king myself, isn’t that so, Tréville, since I’m my father’s son? Well, then, when the time is right, I don’t say no. La Chesnaye, go rummage through all my pockets, see if you can find forty pistoles; and if you find them, bring them to me. And now, young man, tell me, hand on heart, how did it go?”
D’Artagnan recounted the adventure of the day before in all its details: how, having been unable to sleep on account of the joy he felt at seeing His Majesty, he had come to his friends three hours before the time of the audience, how they had gone together to the sporting house, and how, for the fear he had shown of being hit in the face by a ball, he had been mocked by Bernajoux, who had nearly paid for that mockery with the loss of his life, and M. de La Trémouille, who had no part in it, with the loss of his hôtel.
“That’s exactly it,” murmured the king, “yes, that’s just how the duke told it to me. Poor cardinal! Seven men in two days, and some of his most prized! But enough of that, gentlemen, you hear, enough! You’ve taken your revenge for the rue Férou, and even more; you should be satisfied.”
“If Your Majesty is,” said Tréville, “then we are.”
“Yes, I am,” added the king, taking a fistful of gold from La Chesnaye’s hand and putting it into d’Artagnan’s. “Here,” he said, “is proof of my satisfaction.”
At that time, the notions of pride current in our day had not yet come into fashion. A gentleman received the king’s money from hand to hand, and was not humiliated in the least. So d’Artagnan put the forty pistoles into his pocket without any fuss, and, on the contrary, thanked His Majesty greatly.
“There,” said the king, looking at his clock, “there, and now that it’s half past eight, you may retire; for, as I told you, I’m expecting someone at nine. Thank you for your devotion, gentlemen. I may count on it, may I not?”
“Oh, Sire!” the four companions cried with one voice, “we would get ourselves cut to pieces for Your Majesty.”
“Very well, very well; but stay whole—that’s better still, and you’ll be more useful to me. Tréville,” the king added in a low voice while the others were leaving, “since you have no vacancy in the musketeers, and, besides, we decided that to enter that corps one has to make a novitiate, place this young man in the guards company of M. des Essarts, your brother-in-law. Ah, pardieu, Tréville, I rejoice at the grimace the cardinal is going to make! He’ll be furious, but I don’t care; I am within my rights.”
And the king waved to Tréville, who left and went to rejoin his musketeers, whom he found dividing up the forty pistoles with d’Artagnan.
And the cardinal, as His Majesty had said, was indeed furious, so furious that for eight days he stayed away from the king’s games,