Chapter II. A Letter from M. Baisemeaux.
D'Artagnan, faithful to his plan, went the very next morning to paya visit to M. de Baisemeaux. It was cleaning up or tidying day at theBastile; the cannons were furbished up, the staircases scraped andcleaned; and the jailers seemed to be carefully engaged in polishingthe very keys. As for the soldiers belonging to the garrison, they werewalking about in different courtyards, under the pretense that they wereclean enough. The governor, Baisemeaux, received D'Artagnan with morethan ordinary politeness, but he behaved towards him with so marked areserve of manner, that all D'Artagnan's tact and cleverness could notget a syllable out of him. The more he kept himself within bounds,the more D'Artagnan's suspicion increased. The latter even fancied heremarked that the governor was acting under the influence of a recentrecommendation. Baisemeaux had not been at the Palais Royal withD'Artagnan the same cold and impenetrable man which the latter now foundin the Baisemeaux of the Bastile. When D'Artagnan wished to make himtalk about the urgent money matters which had brought Baisemeaux insearch of D'Artagnan, and had rendered him expansive, notwithstandingwhat had passed on that evening, Baisemeaux pretended that he had someorders to give in the prison, and left D'Artagnan so long alone waitingfor him, that our musketeer, feeling sure that he should not get anothersyllable out of him, left the Bastile without waiting until Baisemeauxreturned from his inspection. But D'Artagnan's suspicions were aroused,and when once that was the case, D'Artagnan could not sleep or remainquiet for a moment. He was among men what the cat is among quadrupeds,the emblem of anxiety and impatience, at the same moment. A restless catcan no more remain the same place than a silk thread wafted idly to andfro with every breath of air. A cat on the watch is as motionless asdeath stationed at its place of observation, and neither hunger northirst can draw it from its meditations. D'Artagnan, who was burningwith impatience, suddenly threw aside the feeling, like a cloak whichhe felt too heavy on his shoulders, and said to himself that that whichthey were concealing from him was the very thing it was important heshould know; and, consequently, he reasoned that Baisemeaux would notfail to put Aramis on his guard, if Aramis had given him any particularrecommendation, and this was, in fact, the very thing that happened.
Baisemeaux had hardly had time to return from the donjon, thanD'Artagnan placed himself in ambuscade close to the Rue de Petit-Musc,so as to see every one who might leave the gates of the Bastile. Afterhe had spent an hour on the look-out from the "Golden Portcullis," underthe pent-house of which he could keep himself a little in the shade,D'Artagnan observed a soldier leave the Bastile. This was, indeed, thesurest indication he could possibly have wished for, as every jaileror warder has certain days, and even certain hours, for leaving theBastile, since all are alike prohibited from having either wives orlodgings in the castle, and can accordingly leave without exciting anycuriosity; but a soldier once in barracks is kept there for four andtwenty hours when on duty,--and no one knew this better than D'Artagnan.The guardsman in question, therefore, was not likely to leave hisregimentals, except on an express and urgent order. The soldier, wewere saying, left the Bastile at a slow and lounging pace, like a happymortal, in fact, who, instead of mounting sentry before a wearisomeguard-house, or upon a bastion no less wearisome, has the good luckto get a little liberty, in addition to a walk--both pleasures beingluckily reckoned as part of his time on duty. He bent his steps towardsthe Faubourg Saint-Antoine, enjoying the fresh air and the warmth of thesun, and looking at all the pretty faces he passed. D'Artagnan followedhim at a distance; he had not yet arranged his ideas as what was to bedone. "I must, first of all," he thought, "see the fellow's face. A manseen is a man judged." D'Artagnan increased his pace, and, which was notvery difficult, by the by, soon got in advance of the soldier. Not onlydid he observe that his face showed a tolerable amount of intelligenceand resolution, but he noticed also that his nose was a little red. "Hehas a weakness for brandy, I see," said D'Artagnan to himself. At thesame moment that he remarked his red nose, he saw that the soldier had awhite paper in his belt.
"Good, he has a letter," added D'Artagnan. The only difficulty was toget hold of the letter. But a common soldier would, of course, be onlytoo delighted at having been selected by M. de Baisemeaux as a specialmessenger, and would not be likely to sell his message. As D'Artagnanwas biting his nails, the soldier continued to advance more and moreinto the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. "He is certainly going to Saint-Mande,"he said to himself, "and I shall not be able to learn what the lettercontains." It was enough to drive him wild. "If I were in uniform," saidD'Artagnan to himself, "I would have this fellow seized, and his letterwith him. I could easily get assistance at the very first guard-house;but the devil take me if I mention my name in an affair of this kind.If I were to treat him to something to drink, his suspicions would beroused; and besides, he might drink me drunk. _Mordioux!_ my witsseem to have left me," said D'Artagnan; "it is all over with me. Yet,supposing I were to attack this poor devil, make him draw his swordand kill him for the sake of his letter? No harm in that, if it werea question of a letter from a queen to a nobleman, or a letter from acardinal to a queen; but what miserable intrigues are those of MessieursAramis and Fouquet with M. Colbert. A man's life for that? No, no,indeed; not even ten crowns." As he philosophized in this manner, bitingfirst his nails, and then his mustaches, he perceived a group of archersand a commissary of the police engaged in carrying away a man of verygentlemanly exterior, who was struggling with all his might againstthem. The archers had torn his clothes, and were dragging him roughlyaway. He begged they would lead him along more respectfully, assertingthat he was a gentleman and a soldier. And observing our soldier walkingin the street, he called out, "Help, comrade."
The soldier walked on with the same step towards the man who hadcalled out to him, followed by the crowd. An idea suddenly occurred toD'Artagnan; it was his first one, and we shall find it was not a bad oneeither. During the time the gentleman was relating to the soldier thathe had just been seized in a house as a thief, when the truth was hewas only there as a lover; and while the soldier was pitying him, andoffering him consolation and advice with that gravity which a Frenchsoldier has always ready whenever his vanity or his _esprit de corps_ isconcerned, D'Artagnan glided behind the soldier, who was closely hemmedin by the crowd, and with a rapid sweep, like a sabre slash, snatchedthe letter from his belt. As at this moment the gentleman with the tornclothes was pulling about the soldier, to show how the commissary ofpolice had pulled him about, D'Artagnan effected his pillage of theletter without the slightest interference. He stationed himself aboutten paces distant, behind the pillar of an adjoining house, and readon the address, "To Monsieur du Vallon, at Monsieur Fouquet's,Saint-Mande."
"Good!" he said, and then he unsealed, without tearing the letter,drew out the paper, which was folded in four, from the inside; whichcontained only these words:
"DEAR MONSIEUR DU VALLON,--Will you be good enough to tell Monsieurd'Herblay that _he_ has been to the Bastile, and has been makinginquiries.
"Your devoted
"DE BAISEMEAUX."
"Very good! all right!" exclaimed D'Artagnan; "it is clear enough now.Porthos is engaged in it." Being now satisfied of what he wished toknow: "_Mordioux!_" thought the musketeer, "what is to be done with thatpoor devil of a soldier? That hot-headed, cunning fellow, De Baisemeaux,will make him pay dearly for my trick,--if he returns without theletter, what will they do to him? Besides, I don't want the letter;when the egg has been sucked, what is the good of the shell?" D'Artagnanperceived that the commissary and the archers had succeeded inconvincing the soldier, and went on their way with the prisoner,the latter being still surrounded by the crowd, and continuing hiscomplaints. D'Artagnan advanced into the very middle of the crowd, letthe letter fall, without any one having observed him, and then retreatedrapidly. The soldier resumed his route towards Saint-Mande, his mindoccupied with the gentleman who had implored his protection. Suddenlyhe thought of his letter, and, looking at his belt, saw th
at it was nolonger there. D'Artagnan derived no little satisfaction from his sudden,terrified cry. The poor soldier in the greatest anguish of mind lookedround him on every side, and at last, about twenty paces behind him,he perceived the lucky envelope. He pounced on it like a falcon on itsprey. The envelope was certainly a little dirty, and rather crumpled,but at all events the letter itself was found. D'Artagnan observed thatthe broken seal attracted the soldier's attention a good deal, but hefinished apparently by consoling himself, and returned the letter to hisbelt. "Go on," said D'Artagnan, "I have plenty of time before me, so youmay precede me. It appears that Aramis is not in Paris, since Baisemeauxwrites to Porthos. Dear Porthos, how delighted I shall be to see himagain, and to have some conversation with him!" said the Gascon. And,regulating his pace according to that of the soldier, he promisedhimself to arrive a quarter of an hour after him at M. Fouquet's.