The Vicomte de Bragelonne

to the other, with their backs to the embankment of the river. In the morning also, all the sworn criers of the good city of Paris had traversed the quarters of the city, particularly the halles and the faubourgs, announcing with their hoarse and indefatigable voices the great justice done by the king upon two speculators, two thieves, devourers of the people. And these people, whose interests were so warmly looked after, in order not to fail in respect for their king, quitted shops, stalls, and ateliers, to go and evince a little gratitude to Louis XIV, absolutely like invited guests, who feared to commit an impoliteness in not repairing to the house of him who had invited them. According to the tenor of the sentence, which the criers read aloud and incorrectly, two farmers of the revenues, monopolists of money, dilapidators of the royal provisions, extortioners, and forgers, were about to undergo capital punishment on the Place de Grève, with their names blazoned over their heads, according to their sentence. As to those names, the sentence made no mention of them. The curiosity of the Parisians was at its height, and, as we have said, an immense crowd waited with feverish impatience the hour fixed for the execution. The news had already spread that the prisoners, transferred to the Château of Vincennes, would be conducted from that prison to the Place de Grève. Consequently, the faubourg and the Rue Saint Antoine were crowded; for the population of Paris in those days of great executions was divided into two categories: those who came to see the condemned pass⁠—these were of timid and mild hearts, but philosophically curious⁠—and those who wished to see the condemned die⁠—these had hearts that hungered for sensation. On this day M. d’Artagnan received his last instructions from the king, and made his adieus to his friends, the number of whom was, at the moment, reduced to Planchet, then he traced the plan of his day, as every busy man whose moments are counted ought to do, because he appreciates their importance.

“My departure is to be,” said he, “at break of day, three o’clock in the morning; I have then fifteen hours before me. Take from them the six hours of sleep which are indispensable for me⁠—six; one hour for repasts⁠—seven; one hour for a farewell visit to Athos⁠—eight; two hours for chance circumstances⁠—total, ten. There are then five hours left. One hour to get my money⁠—that is, to have payment refused by M. Fouquet; another hour to go and receive my money of M. Colbert, together with his questions and grimaces; one hour to look over my clothes and arms, and get my boots cleaned. I still have two hours left. Mordioux! how rich I am.” And so saying, d’Artagnan felt a strange joy, a joy of youth, a perfume of those great and happy years of former times mount into his brain and intoxicate him. “During these two hours I will go,” said the musketeer, “and take my quarter’s rent of the Image-de-Notre-Dame. That will be pleasant. Three hundred and seventy-five livres! Mordioux! but that is astonishing! If the poor man who has but one livre in his pocket, found a livre and twelve deniers, that would be justice, that would be excellent; but never does such a godsend fall to the lot of the poor man. The rich man, on the contrary, makes himself revenue with his money, which he does not even touch. Here are three hundred and seventy-five livres which fall to me from heaven. I will go then to the Image-de-Notre-Dame, and drink a glass of Spanish wine with my tenant, which he cannot fail to offer me. But order must be observed, Monsieur d’Artagnan, order must be observed! Let us organize our time, then, and distribute the employment of it! Art. 1st, Athos; Art. 2nd, the Image-de-Notre-Dame; Art. 3rd, M. Fouquet; Art. 4th, M. Colbert; Art. 5th, supper; Art. 6th, clothes, boots, horse, portmanteau; Art. 7th and last, sleep.”

In consequence of this arrangement, d’Artagnan went straight to the Comte de la Fère, to whom, modestly and ingenuously, he related a part of his fortunate adventures. Athos had not been without uneasiness on the subject of d’Artagnan’s visit to the king; but few words sufficed for an explanation of that. Athos divined that Louis had charged d’Artagnan with some important mission, and did not even make an effort to draw the secret from him. He only recommended him to take care of himself, and offered discreetly to accompany him if that were desirable.

“But, my dear friend,” said d’Artagnan, “I am going nowhere.”

“What! you come and bid me adieu, and are going nowhere?”

“Oh! yes, yes,” replied d’Artagnan, coloring a little, “I am going to make an acquisition.”

“That is quite another thing. Then I change my formula. Instead of ‘Do not get yourself killed,’ I will say⁠—‘Do not get yourself robbed.’ ”

“My friend, I will inform you if I set eyes on any property that pleases me, and shall expect you will favor me with your opinion.”

“Yes, yes,” said Athos, too delicate to permit himself even the consolation of a smile. Raoul imitated the paternal reserve. But d’Artagnan thought it would appear too mysterious to leave his friends under a pretense, without even telling them the route he was about to take.

“I have chosen Le Mans,” said he to Athos. “It is a good country?”

“Excellent, my friend,” replied the count, without making him observe that Le Mans was in the same directions as La Touraine, and that by waiting two days, at most, he might travel with a friend. But d’Artagnan, more embarrassed than the count, dug, at every explanation, deeper into the mud, into which he sank by degrees. “I shall set out tomorrow at daybreak,” said he at last. “Till that time, will you come with me, Raoul?”

“Yes, Monsieur le Chevalier,” said the young man, “if Monsieur le Comte does not want me.”

“No, Raoul; I am to have an audience