M. de Troisville, as his family was still called in Gascony, orM. de Treville, as he has ended by styling himself in Paris, hadreally commenced life as D'Artagnan now did; that is to say,without a sou in his pocket, but with a fund of audacity,shrewdness, and intelligence which makes the poorest Gascongentleman often derive more in his hope from the paternalinheritance than the richest Perigordian or Berrichan gentlemanderives in reality from his. His insolent bravery, his stillmore insolent success at a time when blows poured down like hail,had borne him to the top of that difficult ladder called CourtFavor, which he had climbed four steps at a time.

He was the friend of the king, who honored highly, as everyoneknows, the memory of his father, Henry IV. The father of M. deTreville had served him so faithfully in his wars against theleague that in default of money - a thing to which the Bearnaiswas accustomed all his life, and who constantly paid his debtswith that of which he never stood in need of borrowing, that isto say, with ready wit - in default of money, we repeat, heauthorized him, after the reduction of Paris, to assume for hisarms a golden lion passant upon gules, with the motto Fidelis etfortis. This was a great matter in the way of honor, but verylittle in the way of wealth; so that when the illustriouscompanion of the great Henry died, the only inheritance he wasable to leave his son was his sword and his motto. Thanks tothis double gift and the spotless name that accompanied it, M. deTreville was admitted into the household of the young princewhere he made such good use of his sword, and was so faithful tohis motto, that Louis XIII, one of the good blades of hiskingdom, was accustomed to say that if he had a friend who wasabout to fight, he would advise him to choose as a second,himself first, and Treville next - or even, perhaps, beforehimself.

Thus Louis XIII had a real liking for Treville - a royal liking, aself-interested liking, it is true, but still a liking. At thatunhappy period it was an important consideration to be surroundedby such men as Treville. Many might take for their device theepithet STRONG, which formed the second part of his motto, butvery few gentlemen could lay claim to the FAITHFUL, whichconstituted the first. Treville was one of these latter. Hiswas one of those rare organizations, endowed with an obedientintelligence like that of the dog; with a blind valor, a quickeye, and a prompt hand; to whom sight appeared only to be givento see if the king were dissatisfied with anyone, and the hand tostrike this displeasing personage, whether a Besme, a Maurevers,a Poltiot de Mere, or a Vitry. In short, up to this periodnothing had been wanting to Treville but opportunity; but he wasever on the watch for it, and he faithfully promised himself thathe would not fail to seize it by its three hairs whenever it camewithin reach of his hand. At last Louis XIII made Treville thecaptain of his Musketeers, who were to Louis XIII in devotedness,or rather in fanaticism, what his Ordinaries had been to HenryIII, and his Scotch Guard to Louis XI.

On his part, the cardinal was not behind the king in thisrespect. When he saw the formidable and chosen body with whichLouis XIII had surrounded himself, this second, or rather thisfirst king of France, became desirous that he, too, should havehis guard. He had his Musketeers therefore, as Louis XIII hadhis, and these two powerful rivals vied with each other inprocuring, not only from all the provinces of France, but evenfrom all foreign states, the most celebrated swordsmen. It wasnot uncommon for Richelieu and Louis XIII to dispute over theirevening game of chess upon the merits of their servants. Eachboasted the bearing and the courage of his own people. Whileexclaiming loudly against duels and brawls, they excited themsecretly to quarrel, deriving an immoderate satisfaction orgenuine regret from the success or defeat of their owncombatants. We learn this from the memoirs of a man who wasconcerned in some few of these defeats and in many of thesevictories.

Treville had grasped the weak side of his master; and it was tothis address that he owed the long and constant favor of a kingwho has not left the reputation behind him of being very faithfulin his friendships. He paraded his Musketeers before theCardinal Armand Duplessis with an insolent air which made thegray moustache of his Eminence curl with ire. Trevilleunderstood admirably the war method of that period, in which hewho could not live at the expense of the enemy must live at theexpense of his compatriots. His soldiers formed a legion ofdevil-may-care fellows, perfectly undisciplined toward all buthimself.

Loose, half-drunk, imposing, the king's Musketeers, or rather M.de Treville's, spread themselves about in the cabarets, in thepublic walks, and the public sports, shouting, twisting theirmustaches, clanking their swords, and taking great pleasure inannoying the Guards of the cardinal whenever they could fall inwith them; then drawing in the open streets, as if it were thebest of all possible sports; sometimes killed, but sure in thatcase to be both wept and avenged; often killing others, but thencertain of not rotting in prison, M. de Treville being there toclaim them. Thus M. de Treville was praised to the highest noteby these men, who adored him, and who, ruffians as they were,trembled before him like scholars before their master, obedientto his least word, and ready to sacrifice themselves to wash outthe smallest insult.

M. de Treville employed this powerful weapon for the king, in thefirst place, and the friends of the king - and then for himselfand his own friends. For the rest, in the memoirs of thisperiod, which has left so many memoirs, one does not find thisworthy gentleman blamed even by his enemies; and he had many suchamong men of the pen as well as among men of the sword. In noinstance, let us say, was this worthy gentleman accused ofderiving personal advantage from the cooperation of his minions.Endowed with a rare genius for intrigue which rendered him theequal of the ablest intriguers, he remained an honest man. Stillfurther, in spite of sword thrusts which weaken, and painfulexercises which fatigue, he had become one of the most gallantfrequenters of revels, one of the most insinuating lady's men,one of the softest whisperers of interesting nothings of hisday; the BONNES FORTUNES of De Treville were talked of as thoseof M. de Bassompierre had been talked of twenty years before, andthat was not saying a little. The captain of the Musketeers wastherefore admired, feared, and loved; and this constitutes thezenith of human fortune.

Louis XIV absorbed all the smaller stars of his court in his ownvast radiance; but his father, a sun PLURIBUS IMPAR, left hispersonal splendor to each of his favorites, his individual valueto each of his courtiers. In addition to the leeves of the kingand the cardinal, there might be reckoned in Paris at that timemore than two hundred smaller but still noteworthy leeves. Amongthese two hundred leeves, that of Treville was one of the mostsought.

The court of his hotel, situated in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier,resembled a camp from by six o'clock in the morning in summer andeight o'clock in winter. From fifty to sixty Musketeers, whoappeared to replace one another in order always to present animposing number, paraded constantly, armed to the teeth and readyfor anything. On one of those immense staircases, upon whosespace modern civilization would build a whole house. Ascended anddescended the office seekers of Paris, who ran after any sort offavor - gentlemen from the provinces anxious to be enrolled, andservants in all sorts of liveries, bringing and carrying messagesbetween their masters and M. de Treville. In the antechamber,upon long circular benches, reposed the elect; that is to say,those who were called. In this apartment a continued buzzingprevailed from morning till night, while M. de Treville, in hisoffice contiguous to this antechamber, received visits, listenedto complaints, gave his orders, and like the king in his balconyat the Louvre, had only to place himself at the window to reviewboth his men and arms.

The day on which D'Artagnan presented himself the assemblage wasimposing, particularly for a provincial just arriving from hisprovince. It is true that this provincial was a Gascon; andthat, particularly at this period, the compatriots of D'Artagnanhad the reputation of not being easily intimidated. When he hadonce passed the massive door covered with long square-headednails, he fell into the midst of a troop of swordsmen, whocrossed one another in their passage, calling out, quarreling,and playing tricks one with another. In order to make one's wayamid these turbulent and conflicting waves, it was necessary tobe an officer, a great noble, or a pretty woman.

It was, then, into the midst of this tumult and disorder that ouryoung man advanced with a beating heat, ranging his long rapierup his lanky leg, and keeping one hand on the edge of his cap,with that half-smile of the embarrassed a provincial who wishesto put on a good face. When he had passed one group he began tobreathe more freely; but he could not help observing that theyturned round to look at him, and for the first time in his lifeD'Artagnan, who had till that day entertained a very good opinionof himself, felt ridiculous.

Arrived at the staircase, it was still worse. There were fourMusketeers on the bottom steps, amusing themselves with thefollowing exercise, while ten or twelve of their comrades waitedupon the landing place to take their turn in the sport.

One of them, stationed upon the top stair, naked sword in hand,prevented, or at least endeavored to prevent, the three othersfrom ascending.

These three others fenced against him with their agile swords.

D'Artagnan at first took these weapons for foils, and believedthem to be buttoned; but he soon perceived by certain scratchesthat every weapon was pointed and sharpened, and that at each ofthese scratches not only the spectators, but even the actorsthemselves, laughed like so many madmen.

He who at the moment occupied the upper step kept his adversariesmarvelously in check. A circle was formed around them. Theconditions required that at every hit the man touched should quitthe game, yielding his turn for the benefit of the adversary whohad hit him. In five minutes three were slightly wounded, one onthe hand, another on the ear, by the defender of the stair, whohimself remained intact - a piece of skill which was worth to him,according to the rules agreed upon, three turns of favor,

However difficult it might be, or rather as he pretended it was,to astonish our young traveler, this pastime really astonishedhim. He had seen in his province - that land in which headsbecome so easily heated - a few of the preliminaries of duels; butthe daring of these four fencers appeared to him the strongest hehad ever heard of even in Gascony. He believed himselftransported into that famous country of giants into whichGulliver afterward went and was so frightened; and yet he had notgained the goal, for there were still the landing place and theantechamber.

On the landing they were no longer fighting, but amusedthemselves with stories about women, and in the antechamber, withstories about the court. On the landing D'Artagnan blushed; inthe antechamber he trembled. His warm and fickle imagination,which in Gascony had rendered formidable to young chambermaids,and even sometimes their mistresses, had never dreamed, even inmoments of delirium, of half the amorous wonders or a quarter ofthe feats of gallantry which were here set forth in connectionwith names the best known and with details the least concealed.But if his morals were shocked on the landing, his respect forthe cardinal was scandalized in the antechamber. There, to hisgreat astonishment, D'Artagnan heard the policy which made allEurope tremble criticized aloud and openly, as well as theprivate life of the cardinal, which so many great nobles had beenpunished for trying to pry into. That great man who was sorevered by D'Artagnan the elder served as an object of ridiculeto the Musketeers of Treville, who cracked their jokes upon hisbandy legs and his crooked back. Some sang ballads about Mme.d'Aguillon, his mistress, and Mme. Cambalet, his niece; whileothers formed parties and plans to annoy the pages and guards ofthe cardinal duke - all things which appeared to D'Artagnanmonstrous impossibilities.

Nevertheless, when the name of the king was now and then utteredunthinkingly amid all these cardinal jests, a sort of gag seemedto close for a moment on all these jeering mouths. They lookedhesitatingly around them, and appeared to doubt the thickness ofthe partition between them and the office of M. de Treville; buta fresh allusion soon brought back the conversation to hisEminence, and then the laughter recovered its loudness and thelight was not withheld from any of his actions.

"Certes, these fellows will all either be imprisoned or hanged,"thought the terrified D'Artagnan, "and I, no doubt, with them;for from the moment I have either listened to or heard them, Ishall be held as an accomplice. What would my good father say,who so strongly pointed out to me the respect due to thecardinal, if he knew I was in the society of such pagans?"

We have no need, therefore, to say that D'Artagnan dared not joinin the conversation, only he looked with all his eyes andlistened with all his ears, stretching his five senses so as tolose nothing; and despite his confidence on the paternaladmonitions, he felt himself carried by his tastes and led by hisinstincts to praise rather than to blame the unheard-of thingswhich were taking place.

Although he was a perfect stranger in the court of M. deTreville's courtiers, and this his first appearance in thatplace, he was at length noticed, and somebody came and asked himwhat he wanted. At this demand D'Artagnan gave his name verymodestly, emphasized the title of compatriot, and begged theservant who had put the question to him to request a moment'saudience of M. de Treville - a request which the other, with anair of protection, promised to transmit in due season.

D'Artagnan, a little recovered from his first surprise, had nowleisure to study costumes and physiognomy.

The center of the most animated group was a Musketeer of greatheight and haughty countenance, dressed in a costume so peculiaras to attract general attention. He did not wear the uniformcloak - which was not obligatory at that epoch of less liberty butmore independence - but a cerulean-blue doublet, a little faded andworn, and over this a magnificent baldric, worked in gold, whichshone like water ripples in the sun. A long cloak of crimsonvelvet fell in graceful folds from his shoulders, disclosing infront the splendid baldric, from which was suspended a giganticrapier. This Musketeer had just come off guard, complained ofhaving a cold, and coughed from time to time affectedly. It wasfor this reason, as he said to those around him, that he had puton his cloak; and while he spoke with a lofty air and twisted hismustache disdainfully, all admired his embroidered baldric, andD'Artagnan more than anyone.

"What would you have?" said the Musketeer. "This fashion iscoming in. It is a folly, I admit, but still it is the fashion.Besides, one must lay out one's inheritance somehow."

"No, upon honor and by the faith of a gentleman, I bought it withthe contents of my own purse," answered he whom they designatedby the name Porthos.

"Yes; about in the same manner," said another Musketeer, "that Ibought this new purse with what my mistress put into the oldone."

"It's true, though," said Porthos; "and the proof is that I paidtwelve pistoles for it."

The wonder was increased, though the doubt continued to exist.

"Is it not true, Aramis?" said Porthos, turning toward anotherMusketeer.

This other Musketeer formed a perfect contrast to hisinterrogator, who had just designated him by the name of Aramis.He was a stout man, of about two- or three-and-twenty, with anopen, ingenuous countenance, a black, mild eye, and cheeks rosyand downy as an autumn peach. His delicate mustache marked aperfectly straight line upon his upper lip; he appeared to dreadto lower his hands lest their veins should swell, and he pinchedthe tips of his ears from time to time to preserve their delicatepink transparency. Habitually he spoke little and slowly, bowedfrequently, laughed without noise, showing his teeth, which werefine and of which, as the rest of his person, he appeared to takegreat care. He answered the appeal of his friend by anaffirmative nod of the head.

This affirmation appeared to dispel all doubts with regard to thebaldric. They continued to admire it, but said no more about it;and with a rapid change of thought, the conversation passedsuddenly to another subject.

"What do you think of the story Chalais's esquire relates?" askedanother Musketeer, without addressing anyone in particular, buton the contrary speaking to everybody.

"And what does he say?" asked Porthos, in a self-sufficient tone.

"He relates that he met at Brussels Rochefort, the AME DAMNEE ofthe cardinal disguised as a Capuchin, and that this cursedRochefort, thanks to his disguise, had tricked Monsieur deLaigues, like a ninny as he is."

"A ninny, indeed!" said Porthos; "but is the matter certain?"

"I had it from Aramis," replied the Musketeer.

"Indeed?"

"Why, you knew it, Porthos," said Aramis. "I told you of ityesterday. Let us say no more about it."

"Say no more about it? That's YOUR opinion!" replied Porthos.

"Say no more about it! PESTE! You come to your conclusionsquickly. What! The cardinal sets a spy upon a gentleman, hashis letters stolen from him by means of a traitor, a brigand, arascal-has, with the help of this spy and thanks to thiscorrespondence, Chalais's throat cut, under the stupid pretextthat he wanted to kill the king and marry Monsieur to the queen!Nobody knew a word of this enigma. You unraveled it yesterday tothe great satisfaction of all; and while we are still gaping withwonder at the news, you come and tell us today, "Let us say nomore about it.'"

"Well, then, let us talk about it, since you desire it," repliedAramis, patiently.

"This Rochefort," cried Porthos, "if I were the esquire of poorChalais, should pass a minute or two very uncomfortably with me."

"And you - you would pass rather a sad quarter-hour with the RedDuke," replied Aramis.

"Oh, the Red Duke! Bravo! Bravo! The Red Duke!" cried Porthos,clapping his hands and nodding his head. "The Red Duke iscapital. I'll circulate that saying, be assured, my dear fellow.Who says this Aramis is not a wit? What a misfortune it is youdid not follow your first vocation; what a delicious abbe youwould have made!"

"Oh, it's only a temporary postponement," replied Aramis; "Ishall be one someday. You very well know, Porthos, that Icontinue to study theology for that purpose."

"He will be one, as he says," cried Porthos; "he will be one,sooner or later."

"Sooner." said Aramis.

"He only waits for one thing to determine him to resume hiscassock, which hangs behind his uniform," said another Musketeer.

"What is he waiting for?" asked another.

"Only till the queen has given an heir to the crown of France."

"No jesting upon that subject, gentlemen," said Porthos; "thankGod the queen is still of an age to give one!"

"They say that Monsieur de Buckingham is in France," repliedAramis, with a significant smile which gave to this sentence,apparently so simple, a tolerably scandalous meaning.

"Aramis, my good friend, this time you are wrong," interruptedPorthos. "Your wit is always leading you beyond bounds; ifMonsieur de Treville heard you, you would repent of speakingthus."

"Are you going to give me a lesson, Porthos?" cried Aramis, fromwhose usually mild eye a flash passed like lightning.

"My dear fellow, be a Musketeer or an abbe. Be one or the other,but not both," replied Porthos. "You know what Athos told youthe other day; you eat at everybody's mess. Ah, don't be angry,I beg of you, that would be useless; you know what is agreed uponbetween you, Athos and me. You go to Madame d'Aguillon's, andyou pay your court to her; you go to Madame de Bois-Tracy's, thecousin of Madame de Chevreuse, and you pass for being faradvanced in the good graces of that lady. Oh, good Lord! Don'ttrouble yourself to reveal your good luck; no one asks for yoursecret-all the world knows your discretion. But since you possessthat virtue, why the devil don't you make use of it with respectto her Majesty? Let whoever likes talk of the king and thecardinal, and how he likes; but the queen is sacred, and ifanyone speaks of her, let it be respectfully."

"Porthos, you are as vain as Narcissus; I plainly tell you so,"replied Aramis. "You know I hate moralizing, except when it isdone by Athos. As to you, good sir, you wear too magnificent abaldric to be strong on that head. I will be an abbe if it suitsme. In the meanwhile I am a Musketeer; in that quality I saywhat I please, and at this moment it pleases me to say that youweary me."

"Aramis!"

"Porthos!"

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" cried the surrounding group.

"Monsieur de Treville awaits Monsieur d'Artagnan," cried aservant, throwing open the door of the cabinet.

At this announcement, during which the door remained open,everyone became mute, and amid the general silence the young mancrossed part of the length of the antechamber, and entered theapartment of the captain of the Musketeers, congratulatinghimself with all his heart at having so narrowly escaped the endof this strange quarrel.