It was necessary, however, to see M. de Treville. It was important that he should be informed of these events. D’Artagnan determined, therefore, to obtain an entrance at the Louvre. His uniform, as one of M. de Essarts’s guards, ought to be a passport for admission.
He therefore went down the Rue des Petits-Augustins, and along the Quai to reach the Pont-Neuf. He had half a mind to cross the ferry; but on reaching the side of the river he mechanically put his hand into his pocket, and found that he had not enough to pay the ferryman.
When he reached the top of the Rue Guénégaud, he saw two persons, whose appearance struck him, coming out of the Rue Dauphine. They were a man and a woman. The woman resembled in figure Madame Bonancieux; and the man had such a look of Aramis that he might be mistaken for him. Besides, the woman had on the black mantle which d’Artagnan still seemed to see delineated on the shutter in the Rue Vaugirard, and on the door in the Rue de la Harpe. Moreover, the man wore the uniform of the musketeers.
The hood of the woman was lowered, and the man held his handkerchief before his face. This double precaution showed that they were both anxious to escape recognition.
They went over the bridge, and this was also d’Artagnan’s road, as he was going to the Louvre; he therefore followed them.
Scarcely, however, had he taken twenty steps, before he was convinced that the woman was Madame Bonancieux, and the man Aramis.
At the very instant he felt fermenting in his heart all the suspicious torments of jealousy.
He was doubly betrayed; betrayed both by his friend, and by her whom he had already loved as a mistress.
Madame Bonancieux had sworn to him that she did not know Aramis; and a quarter of an hour after she had made this oath he found her hanging on his arm.
D’Artagnan did not reflect that he had only known the mercer’s pretty wife during the last three hours; that she only owed him a little gratitude for having delivered her from the men in black, who wished to carry her away; and that she had made him no promise. He looked upon himself as an outraged lover; as deceived, and laughed at; and the flush of anger passed over his face, as he resolved to ascertain the truth.
The young couple perceived that they were followed, and they increased their haste. D’Artagnan, however, had made his determination; he passed by them, and then returned towards them just as they were opposite the Samaritan, which was lighted by a lamp that threw its radiance over all that part of the bridge.
D’Artagnan stopped in front of them, and they stopped also.
“What do you want, sir?” asked the musketeer, recoiling a step, and in a foreign accent, which proved to d’Artagnan that he had at least deceived himself in one of his conjectures.
“It is not Aramis!” exclaimed d’Artagnan.
“No, sir, it is not Aramis; and as I find by your exclamation that you mistook me for another, I excuse you.”
“Excuse me indeed!” said d’Artagnan.
“Yes,” replied the unknown; “now let me pass on, since it is not with me that you have anything to do.”
“You are right, sir,” said d’Artagnan; “it is not with you that I have anything to settle, it is with the lady.”
“With the lady! You do not even know her,” exclaimed the stranger.
“You are mistaken, sir. I do know her.”
“Ah!” said Madame Bonancieux, in a reproachful tone; “I had your word of honour as a soldier, your promise as a gentleman, and I hoped I might have trusted to them.”
“And I,” said d’Artagnan, in confusion, “I had your promise.”
“Take my arm, madame,” said the stranger, “and let us proceed.”
But d’Artagnan—stunned, overwhelmed, annihilated by all that had happened—remained standing, with his arms crossed, before the musketeer and Madame Bonancieux.
The former came forward two paces, and put d’Artagnan aside with his hand.
D’Artagnan made one bound backwards, and drew his sword.
At the same moment, and with the quickness of lightning, the stranger drew his.
“In God’s name, my lord!” said Madame Bonancieux, throwing herself between the combatants, and seizing their swords with both her hands—
“My lord!” cried d’Artagnan, enlightened by a sudden idea; “My lord! pardon me, sir, but can you be———”
“My Lord Duke of Buckingham!” said Madame Bonancieux, in a very low voice, “and now you may destroy us all.”
“My lord—madame—pardon me; a thousand pardons; but, my lord, I loved her, and was jealous. You know, my lord, what it is to love! Pardon me, and tell me how I may die in your grace’s cause.”
“You are a brave youth,” said Buckingham, offering him a hand, which d’Artagnan pressed respectfully.
“You offer me your services, and I accept them. Follow us, at the distance of twenty paces, to the Louvre, and if any one dogs our steps, kill him!”
D’Artagnan put his naked sword under his arm, let the duke and Madame Bonancieux go forward about twenty steps, and then followed them, ready to execute to the letter the instructions of the elegant and noble minister of Charles I.
But, unfortunately, the young volunteer had no opportunity of affording this proof of his devotion to the duke; and the young woman and the handsome musketeer entered the Louvre, by the wicket in the Rue de l’Echelle, without encountering any interruption.
As for d’Artagnan, he went immediately to the Pineapple, where he found Porthos and Aramis waiting for him.
But without giving them any further reason for the trouble he had caused them, he told them that he had concluded by himself the business for which he at first thought he should have wanted their assistance.
And now, carried on as we have been by our history, let us leave our three friends to return each to his own home, whilst we follow, amidst the tortuous corridors of the Louvre, the Duke of Buckingham and his guide.
12 George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham
MADAME BONANCIEUX AND the duke entered the Louvre without any difficulty; Madame Bonancieux was known to be of the household of the queen; and the duke wore the uniform of the musketeers of M. de Treville, who, as we have said, were on guard that evening. Besides, Germain was devoted to the queen, and, if anything happened, Madame Bonancieux would be accused of having introduced her lover into the Louvre—that was all! She took the blame upon herself; her reputation would be lost, it is true; but of what value in the world was the reputation of a mercer’s little wife?
When they were once inside the court, the duke and the young woman kept close to the wall for about twenty paces; at the end of which Madame Bonancieux tried a small private door, which was usually open during the day, but closed at night. The door opened, and they both entered, and found themselves in total darkness; but Madame Bonancieux was well acquainted with all the turnings and twistings of this part of the Louvre, which was appropriated to the persons of the royal suite. She shut all the doors behind her, took the duke by the hand and going some steps on tip-toe, seized hold of a banister, put a foot upon the staircase, and began to ascend it. The duke had already counted two flights, when she turned to the left, went through a long corridor, descended another stage, walked a few steps forward, introduced a key into a lock, opened a door, and pushed her companion into a room lighted only by a night-lamp, saying to him—“Remain here, my lord duke; some one will come immediately.” Then she went out by the same door, locking it after her, so that the duke found himself literally a prisoner.