Notwithstanding his commission in the musketeers, DArtagnan felt completely solitary. For a time the delightful remembrance of Madame Bonancieux left on his character a certain poetic tinge, perishable indeed; for like all other recollections in this world, these impressions were, by degrees, effaced. A garrison life is fatal even to the most aristocratic organization; and imperceptibly, DArtagnan, always in the camp, always on horseback, always in garrison, became (I know not how in the present age one would express it) a typical trooper. His early refinement of character was not only not lost, it grew even greater than ever; but it was now applied to the little, instead of to the great things of lifeto the martial condition of the soldiercomprised under the head of a good lodging, a rich table, a congenial hostess. These important advantages DArtagnan found to his own taste in the Rue Tiquetonne at the sign of the Roe.
From the time DArtagnan took quarters in that hotel, the mistress of the house, a pretty and fresh looking Flemish woman, twentyfive or twentysix years old, had been singularly interested in him; and after certain love passages, much obstructed by an inconvenient husband to whom a dozen times DArtagnan had made a pretence of passing a sword through his body, that husband had disappeared one fine morning, after furtively selling certain choice lots of wine, carrying away with him money and jewels. He was thought to be dead; his wife, especially, who cherished the pleasing idea that she was a widow, stoutly maintained that death had taken him. Therefore, after the connection had continued three years, carefully fostered by DArtagnan, who found his bed and his mistress more agreeable every year, each doing credit to the other, the mistress conceived the extraordinary desire of becoming a wife and proposed to DArtagnan that he should marry her.
"Ah, fie!" DArtagnan replied. "Bigamy, my dear! Come now, you dont really wish it?"
"But he is dead; I am sure of it."
"He was a very contrary fellow and might come back on purpose to have us hanged."
"All right; if he comes back you will kill him, you are so skillful and so brave."
"Peste! my darling! another way of getting hanged."
"So you refuse my request?"
"To be sure I dofuriously!"
The pretty landlady was desolate. She would have taken DArtagnan not only as her husband, but as her God, he was so handsome and had so fierce a mustache.
Then along toward the fourth year came the expedition of FrancheComte. DArtagnan was assigned to it and made his preparations to depart. There were then great griefs, tears without end and solemn promises to remain faithfulall of course on the part of the hostess. DArtagnan was too grand to promise anything; he purposed only to do all that he could to increase the glory of his name.
As to that, we know DArtagnans courage; he exposed himself freely to danger and while charging at the head of his company he received a ball through the chest which laid him prostrate on the field of battle. He had been seen falling from his horse and had not been seen to rise; every one, therefore, believed him to be dead, especially those to whom his death would give promotion. One believes readily what he wishes to believe. Now in the army, from the divisiongenerals who desire the death of the generalinchief, to the soldiers who desire the death of the corporals, all desire some ones death.
But DArtagnan was not a man to let himself be killed like that. After he had remained through the heat of the day unconscious on the battlefield, the cool freshness of the night brought him to himself. He gained a village, knocked at the door of the finest house and was received as the wounded are always and everywhere received in France. He was petted, tended, cured; and one fine morning, in better health than ever before, he set out for France. Once in France he turned his course toward Paris, and reaching Paris went straight to Rue Tiquetonne.
But DArtagnan found in his chamber the personal equipment of a man, complete, except for the sword, arranged along the wall.
"He has returned," said he. "So much the worse, and so much the better!"
It need not be said that DArtagnan was still thinking of the husband. He made inquiries and discovered that the servants were new and that the mistress had gone for a walk.
"Alone?" asked DArtagnan.
"With monsieur."
"Monsieur has returned, then?"
"Of course," naively replied the servant.
"If I had any money," said DArtagnan to himself, "I would go away; but I have none. I must stay and follow the advice of my hostess, while thwarting the conjugal designs of this inopportune apparition."
He had just completed this monologuewhich proves that in momentous circumstances nothing is more natural than the monologuewhen the servantmaid, watching at the door, suddenly cried out:
"Ah! see! here is madame returning with monsieur."
DArtagnan looked out and at the corner of Rue Montmartre saw the hostess coming along hanging to the arm of an enormous Swiss, who tiptoed in his walk with a magnificent air which pleasantly reminded him of his old friend Porthos.
"Is that monsieur?" said DArtagnan to himself. "Oh! oh! he has grown a good deal, it seems to me." And he sat down in the hall, choosing a conspicuous place.
The hostess, as she entered, saw DArtagnan and uttered a little cry, whereupon DArtagnan, judging that he had been recognized, rose, ran to her and embraced her tenderly. The Swiss, with an air of stupefaction, looked at the hostess, who turned pale.
"Ah, it is you, monsieur! What do you want of me?" she asked, in great distress.
"Is monsieur your cousin? Is monsieur your brother?" said DArtagnan, not in the slightest degree embarrassed in the role he was playing. And without waiting for her reply he threw himself into the arms of the Helvetian, who received him with great coldness.
"Who is that man?" he asked.
The hostess replied only by gasps.
"Who is that Swiss?" asked DArtagnan.
"Monsieur is going to marry me," replied the hostess, between two gasps.
"Your husband, then, is at last dead?"
"How does that concern you?" replied the Swiss.
"It concerns me much," said DArtagnan, "since you cannot marry madame without my consent and since"
"And since?" asked the Swiss.
"And sinceI do not give it," said the musketeer.
The Swiss became as purple as a peony. He wore his elegant uniform, DArtagnan was wrapped in a sort of gray cloak; the Swiss was six feet high, DArtagnan was hardly more than five; the Swiss considered himself on his own ground and regarded DArtagnan as an intruder.
"Will you go away from here?" demanded the Swiss, stamping violently, like a man who begins to be seriously angry.
"I? By no means!" said DArtagnan.
"Some one must go for help," said a lad, who could not comprehend that this little man should make a stand against that other man, who was so large.
DArtagnan, with a sudden accession of wrath, seized the lad by the ear and led him apart, with the injunction:
"Stay you where you are and dont you stir, or I will pull this ear off. As for you, illustrious descendant of William Tell, you will straightway get together your clothes which are in my room and which annoy me, and go out quickly to another lodging."
The Swiss began to laugh boisterously. "I go out?" he said. "And why?"
"Ah, very well!" said DArtagnan; "I see that you understand French. Come then, and take a turn with me and I will explain."
The hostess, who knew DArtagnans skill with the sword, began to weep and tear her hair. DArtagnan turned toward her, saying, "Then send him away, madame."
"Pooh!" said the Swiss, who had needed a little time to take in DArtagnans proposal, "pooh! who are you, in the first place, to ask me to take a turn with you?"
"I am lieutenant in his majestys musketeers," said DArtagnan, "and consequently your superior in everything; only, as the question now is not of rank, but of quartersyou know the customcome and seek for yours; the first to return will recover his chamber."
DArtagnan led away the Swiss in spite of lamentations on the part of the hostess, who in reality found her heart inclining toward her former lover, though she would not have been sorry to give a lesson to that haughty musketeer who had affronted her by the refusal of her hand.
It was night when the two adversaries reached the field of battle. DArtagnan politely begged the Swiss to yield to him the disputed chamber; the Swiss refused by shaking his head, and drew his sword.
"Then you will lie here," said DArtagnan. "It is a wretched bed, but that is not my fault, and it is you who have chosen it." With these words he drew in his turn and crossed swords with his adversary.
He had to contend against a strong wrist, but his agility was superior to all force. The Swiss received two wounds and was not aware of it, by reason of the cold; but suddenly feebleness, occasioned by loss of blood, obliged him to sit down.
"There!" said DArtagnan, "what did I tell you? Fortunately, you wont be laid up more than a fortnight. Remain here and I will send you your clothes by the boy. Goodby! Oh, by the way, youd better take lodging in the Rue Montorgueil at the Chat Qui Pelote. You will be well fed there, if the hostess remains the same. Adieu."
Thereupon he returned in a lively mood to his room and sent to the Swiss the things that belonged to him. The boy found him sitting where DArtagnan had left him, still overwhelmed by the coolness of his adversary.
The boy, the hostess, and all the house had the same regard for DArtagnan that one would have for Hercules should he return to earth to repeat his twelve labors.
But when he was alone with the hostess he said: "Now, pretty Madeleine, you know the difference between a Swiss and a gentleman. As for you, you have acted like a barmaid. So much the worse for you, for by such conduct you have lost my esteem and my patronage. I have driven away the Swiss to humiliate you, but I shall lodge here no longer. I will not sleep where I must scorn. Ho, there, boy! Have my valise carried to the Muid dAmour, Rue des Bourdonnais. Adieu, madame."
In saying these words DArtagnan appeared at the same time majestic and grieved. The hostess threw herself at his feet, asked his pardon and held him back with a sweet violence. What more need be said? The spit turned, the stove roared, the pretty Madeleine wept; DArtagnan felt himself invaded by hunger, cold and love. He pardoned, and having pardoned he remained.