Читать книгу The Three Musketeers - Александр Дюма - Страница 17

The mob that stopped the way was produced, not by the expectation of seeing a man hanged, but by the contemplation of man who was already hanging. After a moment’s hindrance, the carriage proceeded on its way, passed through the crowd, went along the Rue St. Honore, and turning at the Rue des Bons Enfants, stopped at a low doorway.

When the door opened, two guards, assisted by the sergeant, received Bonancieux in their arms, and pushed him into a court; they then made him ascend a staircase, and placed him in an antechamber. All these operations were performed nearly mechanically, as far as he was concerned. He had walked as in a dream, he had seen things as through a mist; he had heard without understanding; and they might have executed him then without his making the slightest resistance, or uttering an appeal for mercy.

He remained passive on the bench, with his back resting against the wall, and his arms hanging down, on the very spot where his guards had placed him.

And yet, as, in looking around him, he saw nothing threatening, as no real danger was indicated, as the bench was comfortably stuffed, as the wall was covered with beautiful cordovan leather, and as long curtains of red damask, held by gilt brackets, hung before the windows, he became by degrees aware that his fears were exaggerated, and began to move his head from right to left, and vertically. At this motion, which no one opposed, he resumed a little courage, ventured to draw up one leg, and then the other; and, at last, supporting himself upon his hands, he raised himself on the bench, and found himself on his feet.

At this moment an officer of pleasant appearance opened a door, exchanged a few words with some person in the next room, and then, turning towards the prisoner, said—

“Is it you who are called Bonancieux?”

“Yes, sir,” stammered the mercer, more dead than alive, “at your service.”

“Enter!”

The officer bade the mercer precede him; and the latter, obeying without reply, entered a room where he appeared to be expected.

It was a large cabinet, the walls of which were furnished with offensive and defensive weapons—a close and suffocating room, in which there was already a fire, although it was scarcely yet the end of September. A square table, loaded with books and papers, and on which there was unrolled an immense plan of the town of Rochelle, occupied the middle of the apartment. In front of the chimney-piece there stood a man of middle height, with a proud and haughty air, piercing eyes, a large forehead, and an emaciated countenance, which was yet further elongated by an imperial, surmounted by a pair of moustaches.

Although this man was scarcely thirty-six or thirty-seven years old, both imperial and moustaches were beginning to grow gray. His appearance, except that he wore no sword, was military; and his buff leather boots, which were yet slightly covered with dust, pointed out that he had been on horseback during the day.

This individual was Armand-Jean Duplessis, Cardinal de Richelieu; not as he is represented—broken down like an old man, suffering like a martyr, his body shattered, his voice extinguished, buried in an enormous easy-chair, no longer living but by the power of his genius, and no longer supporting the struggle against Europe but by the eternal energy of his extraordinary mind—but such as he really was at this period; that is, a skilful and gallant cavalier, already feeble in body, but upheld by that moral force which made him one of the most unparalleled of mankind, and now preparing, after sustaining the Duc de Nevers in his duchy of Mantua, and taking Nismes, Castres, and Elzes, to drive the English from the Isle of Rhe, and to undertake the siege of La Rochelle.

At first sight, nothing denoted that it was the cardinal, and it was impossible for those who were unacquainted with his appearance to guess in whose presence they were.

The poor mercer remained standing at the door, whilst the eyes of the person we have been describing fixed themselves upon him as if they would penetrate his most secret thoughts.

“Is that this Bonancieux?” he demanded, after a moment’s pause.

“Yes, my lord!” replied the officer.

“Very well; give me those papers, and leave us.”

The officer took the papers indicated, gave them to him who asked for them, bowed to the very ground, and left the room.

In these papers Bonancieux recognised his examinations at the Bastile. From time to time the man by the chimney-piece lifted his eyes from the papers, and plunged them, like two poniards, into the very heart of the poor mercer.

At the end of ten minutes’ reading, and ten seconds’ scrutiny of Bonancieux, he had made up his mind.

“That head has never conspired,” murmured the cardinal; “but never mind, let us see.” Then he said slowly, “You are accused of high treason.”

“That is what they have already told me, my lord!” said Bonancieux, giving his interrogator the same title that he had heard the officer give him; “but I give you my oath, that I knew nothing about it.”

The cardinal suppressed a smile.

“You have conspired with your wife, with Madame de Chevreuse, and with my Lord Duke of Buckingham.”

“I admit, my lord,” replied the mercer, “I have heard all those names mentioned by her.”

“And on what occasion?”

“She said that the Cardinal de Richelieu had enticed the Duke of Buckingham to Paris, to destroy him and the queen.”

“She said that, did she?” cried the cardinal, with great violence.

“Yes, my lord; but I told her that she was wrong in saying such a thing, and that his eminence was incapable—”

“Hold your tongue—you are a fool!” replied the cardinal.

“That is exactly what my wife said to me, my lord.”

“Do you know who carried off your wife?”

“No, my lord.”

“But you had some suspicions?”

“Yes, my lord; but as these suspicions appeared to displease the commissary, I have them no longer.”

“Your wife has escaped: did you know that?”

“Not at the time, my lord; I learned it, since I have been in prison, from the commissary, who is a most amiable man.”

The cardinal suppressed another smile.

“Then you do not know what has become of your wife since her escape?”

“Not positively, my lord; but she has probably returned to the Louvre.”

“At one o’clock this morning she had not yet returned there.”

“Ah! good God! but what can have become of her?”

“Have no fear—it will soon be known; nothing escapes the cardinal; the cardinal knows everything.”

“In that case, my lord, do you believe that the cardinal will tell me what has become of my wife?”

“Perhaps so; but it is necessary, first, that you should tell me all you know in relation to the connection of your wife with Madame de Chevreuse.”

“But, my lord, I know nothing about it; I never saw her.”

“When you went to fetch your wife from the Louvre, did she return directly to your house?”

“Scarcely ever. She had business to transact with the queen’s drapers, to whom I convoyed her.”

“And how many linen-drapers were there?”

“Two, my lord.”

“Where do they live?”

“One in the Rue Vaugirard, and the other in the Rue de la Harpe.”

“Did you accompany your wife into these houses?”

“Never, my lord. I always waited for her at the door.”

“And what excuse did she make for entering alone?”

“None: she told me to wait, and I waited.”

“You are a most accommodating husband, my dear M. Bonancieux,” said the cardinal.

“He has called me ‘my dear monsieur,’” said the mercer to himself. “’Pon my faith, things are taking a good turn.”

“Should you know those doors again?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the numbers?”

“Yes.”

“What are they?”

“No. 25 in the Rue Vaugirard, and No. 75 in the Rue de la Harpe.”

“Good!” said the cardinal; and, taking a silver bell, he rang it.

“Go,” said he in a low voice, to the officer who entered—“go and find Rochefort, and tell him to come here directly, if he is within.”

“The count is already here,” said the officer, “and requests an immediate audience of your eminence.”

“Your eminence!” muttered Bonancieux, who knew that such was the title ordinarily given to the cardinal; “your eminence!”

“Let him come in, then, let him come in!” said Richelieu eagerly.

The officer hurried out of the room with that rapidity with which the cardinal was generally obeyed by his followers.

“Your eminence!” again muttered Bonancieux, rolling his eyes in astonishment.

Two seconds had scarcely elapsed after the officer left the room before the door opened again, and another person entered.

“It is he!” exclaimed Bonancieux.

“Who is he?” demanded the cardinal.

“He who ran away with my wife.”

The cardinal rang a second time, and the officer reappeared.

“Put this man into the hands of the two guards, and let him wait till I send for him.”

“No, my lord, no, it is not he!” exclaimed Bonancieux; “no, I was mistaken; it is another person, not at all like him. The gentleman is an honest man.”

“Take away that simpleton!” said the cardinal.

The officer took him by the arm, and led him to the antechamber, where he was met by the two guards.

The person who had last entered impatiently followed Bonancieux with his eyes till he was gone, and, when the door was closed behind him—

“They have met,” he said, eagerly approaching the cardinal.

“Who?” demanded the cardinal.

“Those two.”

“The queen and the duke!” cried the cardinal.

“Yes.”

“And where?”

“At the Louvre!”

“Are you sure?”

“Perfectly sure!”

“Who told you of it?”

“Madame de Lannoy, who is entirely devoted to your eminence, as you well know!”

“Why did she not tell you sooner?”

“Either by chance, or by mistrust, the queen made Madame de Surgis sleep in her room, and kept it throughout the day.”

“Very well; we have been beaten; let us try to have our revenge.”

“Be assured that I will assist your eminence with all my soul.”

“How did this happen?”

“At half-past twelve the queen was with her women.”

“Where?”

“In her bed-chamber, where a pocket-handkerchief was brought her from her seamstress.”

“Well?”

“The queen immediately showed great emotion; and grew pale, under her rouge.”

“Well! what then?”

“Nevertheless, she arose; and, in an agitated voice said, ‘ladies, wait ten minutes for me; I will return.’ Then, opening the door of her alcove, she went out.”

“Why did not Madame de Lannoy come and tell you directly?”

“There was no certainty about the matter; besides, the queen had said, ‘ladies, wait for me.’ And Madame de Lannoy dared not disobey her majesty.”

“And how long did the queen remain absent from her room?”

“Three-quarters of an hour.”

“Did none of her women accompany her?”

“Only Donna Estefana.”

“And she returned?”

“Yes, but only to take a small rosewood casket, bearing her initials, with which she went out again directly.”

“And when she came back, finally, did she bring the casket with her?”

“No!”

“Does Madame de Lannoy know what the casket contained?”

“Yes! the diamond studs which his majesty presented to the queen.”

“And she came back without the casket?”

“Yes.”

“Then the opinion of Madame de Lannoy is, that she gave this casket to Buckingham?”

“She is sure of it.”

“How so?”

“During the day, Madame de Lannoy, in her office of tirewoman to the queen, looked for this casket, appeared uneasy at not finding it, and ended by inquiring for it of the queen.”

“And then the queen—”

“The queen blushed deeply, and answered that, having the evening before broken one of the studs, she had sent it to her jeweller’s to be repaired.”

“You must go there, and ascertain whether that is true, or not.”

“I have been.”

“Well, and the goldsmith—?”

“The goldsmith has heard nothing about it.”

“Good! good! Rochefort, all is not lost, and perhaps—perhaps all is for the best!”

“The fact is, that I have no doubt but what the genius of your eminence—”

“May repair the errors of my agent! Is that what you mean?”

“It was just what I was about to say, if your eminence had permitted me to finish the sentence.”

“Now, do you know where the Duchesse de Chevreuse and the Duke of Buckingham concealed themselves?”

“No, my lord; my agents have no positive information upon that point.”

“I know it myself, though.”

“You! my lord?”

“Yes, or at least I have no doubt of it. They lived, the one in the Rue Vaugirard, at No. 25, and the other in the Rue de la Harpe, No. 75.”

“Would your eminence wish me to arrest them both?”

“It is too late; they will be gone.”

“Never mind; there is no harm in trying!”

“Take ten of my guards, and ransack the two houses.”

“It shall be done, my lord!”

So saying, Rochefort rushed from the room.

When the cardinal was left alone, he remained a moment in thought, and then rang a third time.

The officer who had come before appeared again.

“Bring in the prisoner,” said the cardinal.

Master Bonancieux was again brought in, and, at a sign from the cardinal, the officer withdrew.

“You have deceived me,” said the cardinal, with great severity.

“I!” cried Bonancieux; “I deceive your eminence!”

“When your wife went to the Rue Vaugirard, and the Rue de la Harpe, she did not go to linen-drapers.”

“Good God! To whom did she go, then?”

“She went to see the Duchesse de Chevreuse, and the Duke of Buckingham.”

“Yes!” said Bonancieux, with a flash of recollection; “yes, exactly so; your eminence is right. I often told my wife that it was astonishing that linen-drapers should live in such houses; in houses which had no signs; and every time I said so, my wife began to laugh. Ah! my lord!” he continued, throwing himself at the feet of his eminence, “it is plain that you are the cardinal, the great cardinal—the man of genius, whom all the world reveres!”

The cardinal, small as was the triumph to be achieved over a being so vulgar as was Bonancieux, did not the less enjoy it for a moment. Then, as if a new idea struck him, he smiled, and, stretching out his hand to the mercer—

“Rise, my friend,” said he, “you are a worthy fellow.”

“The cardinal has taken my hand! I have touched the hand of the great man!” exclaimed Bonancieux; “the great man has called me his friend!”

“Yes, my friend, yes,” said the cardinal, in that paternal tone which he was sometimes able to assume, but which only deceived those who did not know him; “and as you have been unjustly suspected, we must make you some amends. Here, take this bag of a hundred pistoles, and forgive me.”

“I forgive you, my lord!” said Bonancieux, hesitating to take the bag, from a fear that this supposed gift was only a jest. “But you were quite at liberty to have me arrested; you are quite at liberty to send me to the torture; you are quite at liberty to hang me; you are the master, and I should not have the smallest word to say against it. Forgive you, my lord! But you cannot mean that!”

“Ah! my dear M. Bonancieux, you are very generous; I see it, and I thank you. But you must take this bag, and then you will go away not very discontented—will you?”

“I go away perfectly enchanted, my lord!”

“Adieu, then; or, rather, au revoir hair; for I hope that we shall see each other again.”

“As often as my lord may please; I am at your eminence’s command.”

“It shall be often, depend upon it; for I have found your conversation quite charming.”

“Oh! my lord!”

“Farewell, till our next meeting, M. Bonancieux—till our next meeting.”

Bonancieux, at a sign from the cardinal’s hand, bowed to the very ground, and then backed himself out of the room. When he was in the anteroom, the cardinal heard him, in his enthusiasm, crying out, at the top of his voice:

“Long live his eminence! long live the great cardinal!”

Richelieu listened with a smile to this noisy manifestation of the enthusiastic feelings of Master Bonancieux: and, when his shouts were lost in the distance: “There,” he said, “is a man who would henceforth die for me!”

The cardinal then set himself to examine with great attention the map of La Rochelle, which was spread out upon the table, and to mark with a pencil the position of the famous breakwater which, eighteen months afterwards, closed the port of the besieged city.

Whilst he was most deeply occupied with these strategic meditations, the door opened, and Rochefort reappeared.

“Well!” said the cardinal, with vivacity, which proved what consequence he attached to the intelligence that he expected from the count.

“Well!” said the latter, “a young woman, between twenty-six and twenty-eight years old, and a man of about thirty-five or forty years of age, have really lodged in the houses indicated by your eminence; but the woman left last night, and the man this morning.”

“It was they!” exclaimed the duke, whose eyes were fixed upon the clock: “but now,” he continued, “it is too late to follow them. The duchess is at Tours, and the duke at Boulogne. It is in London that they must be overtaken.”

“What are your eminence’s commands?”

“Let not one word be said of what has passed. Let the queen remain in perfect peace of mind; let her be ignorant that we know her secret; let her believe that we are hunting after some conspiracy. Send me Seguier, the keeper of the seals.”

“And this man? What has your eminence done with him?”

“What man?” demanded the cardinal.

“This Bonancieux.”

“I have done all that could be done with him. I have set him to spy upon his wife.”

The Count de Rochefort bowed low, like a man who felt the great superiority of his master, and withdrew.

As soon as the cardinal was again alone, he seated himself once more, and wrote a letter, which he sealed with his private signet, and then rang his bell. The officer entered for the fourth time.

“Tell Vitry to come here,” said the cardinal, “and order him to be ready for a journey.”

In another moment the man he had sent for was standing before him, booted and spurred.

“Vitry,” said he, “you must go off at once, without an instant’s delay, to London. You must not stop one moment on the road, and you will give this letter to my lady. There is a cheque for two hundred pistoles; go to my treasurer, and get the money. You shall have the same sum if you return in six days, having performed my commission with success!”

The messenger, without answering one word, bowed; took the letter, and the order for two hundred pistoles, and left the room.

These were the contents of the letter—

“MY LADY,

“Be present at the first ball where you can meet the Duke of Buckingham. He will have on his doublet twelve diamond studs; get close to him, and cut off two.

“As soon as these studs are in your possession, let me know it.”