“Sire,” resumed Treville, “as I told you, Monsieur d’Artagnan is little more than a boy; and as he has not the honor of being a Musketeer, he was dressed as a citizen. The Guards of the cardinal, perceiving his youth and that he did not belong to the corps, invited him to retire before they attacked.”
“So you may plainly see, Treville,” interrupted the king, “it was they who attacked?”
“That is true, sire; there can be no more doubt on that head. They called upon him then to retire; but he answered that he was a Musketeer at heart, entirely devoted to your Majesty, and that therefore he would remain with Messieurs the Musketeers.”
“Brave young man!” murmured the king.
“Well, he did remain with them; and your Majesty has in him so firm a champion that it was he who gave Jussac the terrible sword thrust which has made the cardinal so angry.”
“He who wounded Jussac!” cried the king, “he, a boy! Treville, that’s impossible!”
“It is as I have the honor to relate it to your Majesty.”
“Jussac, one of the first swordsmen in the kingdom?”
“Well, sire, for once he found his master.”
“I will see this young man, Treville-I will see him; and if anything can be done-well, we will make it our business.”
“When will your Majesty deign to receive him?”
“Tomorrow, at midday, Treville.”
“Shall I bring him alone?”
“No, bring me all four together. I wish to thank them all at once. Devoted men are so rare, Treville, by the back staircase. It is useless to let the cardinal know.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You understand, Treville-an edict is still an edict, it is forbidden to fight, after all.”
“But this encounter, sire, is quite out of the ordinary conditions of a duel. It is a brawl; and the proof is that there were five of the cardinal’s Guardsmen against my three Musketeers and Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“That is true,” said the king; “but never mind, Treville, come still by the back staircase.”
Treville smiled; but as it was indeed something to have prevailed upon this child to rebel against his master, he saluted the king respectfully, and with this agreement, took leave of him.
That evening the three Musketeers were informed of the honor accorded them. As they had long been acquainted with the king, they were not much excited; but d’Artagnan, with his Gascon imagination, saw in it his future fortune, and passed the night in golden dreams. By eight o’clock in the morning he was at the apartment of Athos.
D’Artagnan found the Musketeer dressed and ready to go out. As the hour to wait upon the king was not till twelve, he had made a party with Porthos and Aramis to play a game at tennis in a tennis court situated near the stables of the Luxembourg. Athos invited d’Artagnan to follow them; and although ignorant of the game, which he had never played, he accepted, not knowing what to do with his time from nine o’clock in the morning, as it then scarcely was, till twelve.
The two Musketeers were already there, and were playing together. Athos, who was very expert in all bodily exercises, passed with d’Artagnan to the opposite side and challenged them; but at the first effort he made, although he played with his left hand, he found that his wound was yet too recent to allow of such exertion. D’Artagnan remained, therefore, alone; and as he declared he was too ignorant of the game to play it regularly they only continued giving balls to one another without counting. But one of these balls, launched by Porthos’ herculean hand, passed so close to d’Artagnan’s face that he thought that if, instead of passing near, it had hit him, his audience would have been probably lost, as it would have been impossible for him to present himself before the king. Now, as upon this audience, in his Gascon imagination, depended his future life, he saluted Aramis and Porthos politely, declaring that he would not resume the game until he should be prepared to play with them on more equal terms, and went and took his place near the cord and in the gallery.
Unfortunately for d’Artagnan, among the spectators was one of his Eminence’s Guardsmen, who, still irritated by the defeat of his companions, which had happened only the day before, had promised himself to seize the first opportunity of avenging it. He believed this opportunity was now come and addressed his neighbor: “It is not astonishing that that young man should be afraid of a ball, for he is doubtless a Musketeer apprentice.”
D’Artagnan turned round as if a serpent had stung him, and fixed his eyes intensely upon the Guardsman who had just made this insolent speech.
“PARDIEU,” resumed the latter, twisting his mustache, “look at me as long as you like, my little gentleman! I have said what I have said.”
“And as since that which you have said is too clear to require any explanation,” replied d’Artagnan, in a low voice, “I beg you to follow me.”
“And when?” asked the Guardsman, with the same jeering air.
“At once, if you please.”
“And you know who I am, without doubt?”
“I? I am completely ignorant; nor does it much disquiet me.”
“You’re in the wrong there; for if you knew my name, perhaps you would not be so pressing.”
“What is your name?”
“Bernajoux, at your service.”
“Well, then, Monsieur Bernajoux,” said d’Artagnan, tranquilly, “I will wait for you at the door.”
“Go, monsieur, I will follow you.”
“Do not hurry yourself, monsieur, lest it be observed that we go out together. You must be aware that for our undertaking, company would be in the way.”
“That’s true,” said the Guardsman, astonished that his name had not produced more effect upon the young man.
Indeed, the name of Bernajoux was known to all the world, d’Artagnan alone excepted, perhaps; for it was one of those which figured most frequently in the daily brawls which all the edicts of the cardinal could not repress.
Porthos and Aramis were so engaged with their game, and Athos was watching them with so much attention, that they did not even perceive their young companion go out, who, as he had told the Guardsman of his Eminence, stopped outside the door. An instant after, the Guardsman descended in his turn. As d’Artagnan had no time to lose, on account of the audience of the king, which was fixed for midday, he cast his eyes around, and seeing that the street was empty, said to his adversary, “My faith! It is fortunate for you, although your name is Bernajoux, to have only to deal with an apprentice Musketeer. Never mind; be content, I will do my best. On guard!”
“But,” said he whom d’Artagnan thus provoked, “it appears to me that this place is badly chosen, and that we should be better behind the Abbey St. Germain or in the Pre-aux-Clercs.”
“What you say is full of sense,” replied d’Artagnan; “but unfortunately I have very little time to spare, having an appointment at twelve precisely. On guard, then, monsieur, on guard!”
Bernajoux was not a man to have such a compliment paid to him twice. In an instant his sword glittered in his hand, and he sprang upon his adversary, whom, thanks to his great youthfulness, he hoped to intimidate.
But d’Artagnan had on the preceding day served his apprenticeship. Fresh sharpened by his victory, full of hopes of future favor, he was resolved not to recoil a step. So the two swords were crossed close to the hilts, and as d’Artagnan stood firm, it was his adversary who made the retreating step; but d’Artagnan seized the moment at which, in this movement, the sword of Bernajoux deviated from the line. He freed his weapon, made a lunge, and touched his adversary on the shoulder. D’Artagnan immediately made a step backward and raised his sword; but Bernajoux cried out that it was nothing, and