Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; France -- History -- Louis XIII, 1610-1643 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Swordsmen -- Fiction
“But how?”
“Listen! You must try to see her, and have an explanation with her. Say
to her: ‘Peace or war! My word as a gentleman never to say anything of
you, never to do anything against you; on your side, a solemn oath to
remain neutral with respect to me. If not, I will apply to the
chancellor, I will apply to the king, I will apply to the hangman, I
will move the courts against you, I will denounce you as branded, I
will bring you to trial; and if you are acquitted, well, by the faith
of a gentleman, I will kill you at the corner of some wall, as I would
a mad dog.’”
“I like the means well enough,” said D’Artagnan, “but where and how to
meet with her?”
“Time, dear friend, time brings round opportunity; opportunity is the
martingale of man. The more we have ventured the more we gain, when we
know how to wait.”
“Yes; but to wait surrounded by assassins and poisoners.”
“Bah!” said Athos. “God has preserved us hitherto, God will preserve us
still.”
“Yes, we. Besides, we are men; and everything considered, it is our lot
to risk our lives; but _she_,” asked he, in an undertone.
“What she?” asked Athos.
“Constance.”
“Madame Bonacieux! Ah, that’s true!” said Athos. “My poor friend, I had
forgotten you were in love.”
“Well, but,” said Aramis, “have you not learned by the letter you found
on the wretched corpse that she is in a convent? One may be very
comfortable in a convent; and as soon as the siege of La Rochelle is
terminated, I promise you on my part—”
“Good,” cried Athos, “good! Yes, my dear Aramis, we all know that your
views have a religious tendency.”
“I am only temporarily a Musketeer,” said Aramis, humbly.
“It is some time since we heard from his mistress,” said Athos, in a
low voice. “But take no notice; we know all about that.”
“Well,” said Porthos, “it appears to me that the means are very
simple.”
“What?” asked D’Artagnan.
“You say she is in a convent?” replied Porthos.
“Yes.”
“Very well. As soon as the siege is over, we’ll carry her off from that
convent.”
“But we must first learn what convent she is in.”
“That’s true,” said Porthos.
“But I think I have it,” said Athos. “Don’t you say, dear D’Artagnan,
that it is the queen who has made choice of the convent for her?”
“I believe so, at least.”
“In that case Porthos will assist us.”
“And how so, if you please?”
“Why, by your marchioness, your duchess, your princess. She must have a
long arm.”
“Hush!” said Porthos, placing a finger on his lips. “I believe her to
be a cardinalist; she must know nothing of the matter.”
“Then,” said Aramis, “I take upon myself to obtain intelligence of
her.”
“You, Aramis?” cried the three friends. “You! And how?”
“By the queen’s almoner, to whom I am very intimately allied,” said
Aramis, coloring.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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