Alexandre Dumas - The Three Musketeers

“Is the affidavit of a civilian of equal value with the word of honour of a soldier?” demanded Treville fiercely.

“Come, come, Treville, be silent,” said the king.

“If his eminence has any suspicions against one of my musketeers,” replied Treville, “the justice of the cardinal is so well known, that I should myself demand an inquiry.”

“In the house in which this attack on justice has been made,” said the immovable cardinal, “there lodges, I believe, a Bearnese, a friend of the musketeer.”

“Your eminence probably alludes to M. d’Artagnan?”

“I allude to a protege of yours, M. de Treville.”

“Yes, your eminence; precisely so.”

“Do you not suspect this young man of having led M. Athos astray?”

“M. Athos—a man nearly double his own age,” broke in M. de Treville. “No, sir; besides, M. d’Artagnan passed the evening at my house!”

“Ah!” said the cardinal, “everybody seems to have passed the evening at your house.”

“Does his eminence doubt my word?” exclaimed Treville, his face flushed with anger.

“No, God forbid!” said the cardinal; “but, only, at what hour was he at your house?”

“Oh! as to that, I can speak with certainty to your eminence; for, as he entered, I remarked that it was half-past nine by the clock, although I had believed it to be later.”

“And at what hour did he leave your hotel?”

“At half-past ten—exactly one hour after this event happened.”

“But, at least, M. Athos was seized in that house, in the Rue des Fossoyeurs!” said the cardinal, who did not for a moment doubt the loyalty of M. de Treville, yet felt that victory was leaving him.

“Is it unlawful for a friend to visit a friend? or for a musketeer of my company to keep company with a guard of M. des Essarts?”

“Yes, when the house where he associates with his friend is suspected.”

“This house is suspected, Treville!” said the king: “perhaps you did not know that.”

“Indeed, sire, I did not know it. But, although it might be suspected, I deny that it was in that part which M. d’Artagnan inhabits; for I can assure you, sir, if I may believe what he has said, that there does not exist a more devoted servant of your majesty, or a more profound admirer of the cardinal.”

“Is it not this d’Artagnan who wounded Jussac in that unfortunate encounter which took place one day near the convent des Carmes Dechaux?” demanded the king, looking at the cardinal, who coloured with spite. “And wounded Bernajoux the next day.”

“Yes, sire, yes; it is the same. Your majesty has a good memory!”

“Come, what shall we decide upon?” said the king.

“That concerns your majesty more than me,” answered the cardinal. “I assert his guilt.”

“And I deny it,” said Treville. “But his majesty has judges—let them determine on the affair.”

“Exactly so,” said the king, “let us refer the matter to the judges: it is their business to judge, and they shall judge it.”

“Only,” said Treville, “it is a sad thing, in these unhappy times in which we live, that the purest life, the most indisputable virtue, cannot secure a man from disgrace and persecution. The army will be but little satisfied, I can answer for it, at being the object of such rigorous treatment at the hands of the police.”

The expression was imprudent, but Treville had thrown it out purposely. He wished for an explosion; because the mine flames out as it explodes, and the flame enlightens us.

“The police!” cried the king, taking up Treville’s words. “Affairs of the police! And what do you know about them, sir? Busy yourself with your musketeers, and don’t perplex my brain. It would seem, to hear you, that if a musketeer is arrested, France is imperilled. Ah! what a fuss about a musketeer! I will arrest ten, fifty, a hundred, ay, even the whole company, nor will any one utter a word!”

“The instant that they are suspected by your majesty,” said Treville, “the musketeers become guilty. I am ready, therefore, to surrender my sword; for, after having accused my soldiers, I do not doubt that the cardinal will conclude by accusing me; and it is unquestionably better that I should deliver myself up as a prisoner with M. Athos, who is already arrested, and with M. d’Artagnan, who will doubtless before long be so too.”

“Gascon head! will you have done?” said the king.

“Sire,” said Treville, without in the least lowering his voice, “give me up my musketeer, or let him be tried!”

“He shall be tried,” said the king.

“Well, so much the better: for then I shall demand your majesty’s permission to plead his cause.”

The king dreaded an outbreak.

“If his eminence,” said he, “had not any personal motives—.”

The cardinal saw which way the king was tending, and anticipated him.

“Pardon me,” said he, “but the moment that the king sees in me a prejudiced judge, I retire.”

“Come,” said the king to M. de Treville, “do you swear to me by my father, that M. Athos was at your house during this event, and that he had nothing to do with it?”

“By your glorious father, and by yourself, whom I love and venerate most in the world, I swear it!”

“You must reflect, sire,” said the cardinal, “that if we thus release this prisoner, the truth cannot be discovered.”

“M. Athos shall always be forthcoming,” said Treville, “when it may please the lawyers to interrogate him. He will not run away. I stand surety for him.”

“In reality he will not desert,” said the king; “he can always be found, as Treville says. Besides,” added he, lowering his voice, and regarding the cardinal with a supplicating air, “put them in security: it is politic.”

This policy of Louis XIII. made Richelieu smile.

“Give your order, sire,” said he, “for you have the privilege of pardon.”

“The privilege of pardon applies only to the guilty,” said Treville, who wished to have the last word, “and my musketeer is innocent. It is not a pardon, therefore, that your majesty is going to grant, but justice.”

“Is he at Fort l’Eveque?” asked the king.

“Yes, sire, and in a solitary dungeon, like the worst of criminals.”

“’Od’s blood!” said the king, “what is to be done?”

“Sign the order for his release,” said the cardinal, “and all will be ended. I believe, like your majesty, that M. de Treville’s security is more than sufficient.”

Treville bowed respectfully, with a joy not unmingled with fear. He would have preferred an obstinate resistance on the part of the cardinal, to this sudden concession.

The king signed the order of release, and Treville carried it away immediately.

At the moment he was going out, the cardinal gave him a friendly smile, and said to the king—

“Great harmony exists between the officers and the soldiers of your musketeers, sire; it must be very beneficial to the service, and reflects honour on them all.”

“He will play me some scurvy trick presently,” thought Treville; “one never has the last word with such a man. But let me hasten, for the king may change his mind soon; and, after all, it is more difficult to put a man back into the Bastile, or Fort l’Eveque, once he has got out of it, than to keep him prisoner there when they have already caught him.”

M. de Treville entered Fort l’Eveque triumphantly, and set at liberty his musketeer, who had not lost his calm indifference.

And the first time that he saw d’Artagnan, he said to him, “You have escaped well: your sword-thrust to Jussac is now paid for; that to Bernajoux still remains; but you must not be too confident.”