Meanwhile, the cardinal looked anxiously for news from England;but no news arrived that was not annoying and threatening.

Although La Rochelle was invested, however certain success mightappear - thanks to the precautions taken, and above all to thedyke, which prevented the entrance of any vessel into thebesieged city - the blockade might last a long time yet. This wasa great affront to the king's army, and a great inconvenience tothe cardinal, who had no longer, it is true, to embroil LouisXIII with Anne of Austria - for that affair was over - but he hadto adjust matters for M. de Bassompierre, who was embroiled withthe Duc d'Angouleme.

As to Monsieur, who had begun the siege, he left to the cardinalthe task of finishing it.

The city, notwithstanding the incredible perseverance of itsmayor, had attempted a sort of mutiny for a surrender; the mayorhad hanged the mutineers. This execution quieted the ill-disposed, who resolved to allow themselves to die of hunger - thisdeath always appearing to them more slow and less sure thanstrangulation.

On their side, from time to time, the besiegers took themessengers which the Rochellais sent to Buckingham, or the spieswhich Buckingham sent to the Rochellais. In one case or theother, the trial was soon over. The cardinal pronounced thesingle word, "Hanged!" The king was invited to come and see thehanging. He came languidly, placing himself in a good situationto see all the details. This amused him sometimes a little, andmade him endure the siege with patience; but it did not preventhis getting very tired, or from talking at every moment ofreturning to Paris - so that if the messengers and the spies hadfailed, his Eminence, notwithstanding all his inventiveness,would have found himself much embarrassed.

Nevertheless, time passed on, and the Rochellais did notsurrender. The last spy that was taken was the bearer of aletter. This letter told Buckingham that the city was at anextremity; but instead of adding, "If your succor does not arrivewithin fifteen days, we will surrender," it added, quite simply,"If your succor comes not within fifteen days, we shall all bedead with hunger when it comes."

The Rochellais, then, had no hope but in Buckingham. Buckinghamwas their Messiah. It was evident that if they one day learnedpositively that they must not count on Buckingham, their couragewould fail with their hope.

The cardinal looked, then, with great impatience for the newsfrom England which would announce to him that Buckingham wouldnot come.

The question of carrying the city by assault, though oftendebated in the council of the king, had been always rejected. Inthe first place, La Rochelle appeared impregnable. Then thecardinal, whatever he said, very well knew that the horror ofbloodshed in this encounter, in which Frenchman would combatagainst Frenchman, was a retrograde movement of sixty yearsimpressed upon his policy; and the cardinal was at that periodwhat we now call a man of progress. In fact, the sack of LaRochelle, and the assassination of three of four thousandHuguenots who allowed themselves to be killed, would resemble tooclosely, in 1628, the massacre of St. Bartholomew in 1572; andthen, above all this, this extreme measure, which was not at allrepugnant to the king, good Catholic as he was, always fellbefore this argument of the besieging generals - La Rochelle isimpregnable except to famine.

The cardinal could not drive from his mind the fear heentertained of his terrible emissary - for he comprehended thestrange qualities of this woman, sometimes a serpent, sometimes alion. Had she betrayed him? Was she dead? He knew her wellenough in all cases to know that, whether acting for or againsthim, as a friend or an enemy, she would not remain motionlesswithout great impediments; but whence did these impedimentsarise? That was what he could not know.

And yet he reckoned, and with reason, on Milady. He had divinedin the past of this woman terrible things which his red mantlealone could cover; and he felt, from one cause or another, thatthis woman was his own, as she could look to no other but himselffor a support superior to the danger which threatened her.

He resolved, then, to carry on the war alone, and to look for nosuccess foreign to himself, but as we look for a fortunatechance. He continued to press the raising of the famous dykewhich was to starve La Rochelle. Meanwhile, he cast his eyesover that unfortunate city, which contained so much deep miseryand so many heroic virtues, and recalling the saying of Louis XI,his political predecessor, as he himself was the predecessor ofRobespierre, he repeated this maxim of Tristan's gossip: "Dividein order to reign."

Henry IV, when besieging Paris, had loaves and provisions thrownover the walls. The cardinal had little notes thrown over inwhich he represented to the Rochellais how unjust, selfish, andbarbarous was the conduct of their leaders. These leaders hadcorn in abundance, and would not let them partake of it; theyadopted as a maxim - for they, too, had maxims - that it was ofvery little consequence that women, children, and old men shoulddie, so long as the men who were to defend the walls remainedstrong and healthy. Up to that time, whether from devotedness orfrom want of power to act against it, this maxim, without beinggenerally adopted, nevertheless passed from theory into practice;but the notes did it injury. The notes reminded the men that thechildren, women, and old men whom they allowed to die were theirsons, their wives, and their fathers, and that it would be morejust for everyone to be reduced to the common misery, in orderthat equal conditions should give birth to unanimous resolutions.

These notes had all the effect that he who wrote them couldexpect, in that they induced a great number of the inhabitants toopen private negotiations with the royal army.

But at the moment when the cardinal saw his means alreadyfructify, and applauded himself for having put it in action, aninhabitant of La Rochelle who had contrived to pass the royallines - God knows how, such was the watchfulness of Bassompierre,Schomberg, and the Duc d'Angouleme, themselves watched over bythe cardinal - an inhabitant of La Rochelle, we say, entered thecity, coming from Portsmouth, and saying that he had seen amagnificent fleet ready to sail within eight days. Stillfurther, Buckingham announced to the mayor that at length thegreat league was about to declare itself against France, and thatthe kingdom would be at once invaded by the English, Imperial,and Spanish armies. This letter was read publicly in all partsof the city. Copies were put up at the corners of the streets;and even they who had begun to open negotiations interruptedthem, being resolved to await the succor so pompously announced.

This unexpected circumstance brought back Richelieu's formeranxiety, and forced him in spite of himself once more to turn hiseyes to the other side of the sea.

During this time, exempt from the anxiety of its only and truechief, the royal army led a joyous life, neither provisions normoney being wanting in the camp. All the corps rivaled oneanother in audacity and gaiety. To take spies and hang them, tomake hazardous expeditions upon the dyke or the sea, to imaginewild plans, and to execute them coolly - such were the pastimeswhich made the army find these days short which were not only solong to the Rochellais, a prey to famine and anxiety, but even tothe cardinal, who blockaded them so closely.

Sometimes when the cardinal, always on horseback, like the lowestGENDARME of the army, cast a pensive glance over those works, soslowly keeping pace with his wishes, which the engineers, broughtfrom all the corners of France, were executing under his orders,if he met a Musketeer of the company of Treville, he drew nearand looked at him in a peculiar manner, and not recognizing inhim one of our four companions, he turned his penetrating lookand profound thoughts in another direction.

One day when oppressed with a mortal weariness of mind, withouthope in the negotiations with the city; without news fromEngland, the cardinal went out, without any other aim than to beout of doors, and accompanied only by Cahusac and La Houdiniere,strolled along the beach. Mingling the immensity of his dreamswith the immensity of the ocean, he came, his horse going at afoot's pace, to a hill from the top of which he perceived behinda hedge, reclining on the sand and catching in its passage one ofthose rays of the sun so rare at this period of the year, sevenmen surrounded by empty bottles. Four of these men were ourMusketeers, preparing to listen to a letter one of them had justreceived. This letter was so important that it made them forsaketheir cards and their dice on the drumhead.

The other three were occupied in opening an enormous flagon ofCollicure wine; these were the lackeys of these gentlemen.

The cardinal was, as we have said, in very low spirits; andnothing when he was in that state of mind increased hisdepression so much as gaiety in others. Besides, he had anotherstrange fancy, which was always to believe that the causes of hissadness created the gaiety of others. Making a sign to LaHoudiniere and Cahusac to stop, he alighted from his horse, andwent toward these suspected merry companions, hoping, by means ofthe sand which deadened the sound of his steps and of the hedgewhich concealed his approach, to catch some words of thisconversation which appeared so interesting. At ten paces fromthe hedge he recognized the talkative Gascon; and as he hadalready perceived that these men were Musketeers, he did notdoubt that the three others were those called the Inseparables;that is to say, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.

It may be supposed that his desire to hear the conversation wasaugmented by this discovery. His eyes took a strange expression,and with the step of a tiger-cat he advanced toward the hedge;but he had not been able to catch more than a few vague syllableswithout any positive sense, when a sonorous and short cry madehim start, and attracted the attention of the Musketeers.

"Officer!" cried Grimaud.

"You are speaking, you scoundrel!" said Athos, rising upon hiselbow, and transfixing Grimaud with his flaming look.

Grimaud therefore added nothing to his speech, but contentedhimself with pointing his index finger in the direction of thehedge, announcing by this gesture the cardinal and his escort.

With a single bound the Musketeers were on their feet, andsaluted with respect.

The cardinal seemed furious.

"It appears that Messieurs the Musketeers keep guard," said he."Are the English expected by land, or do the Musketeers considerthemselves superior officers?"

"Monseigneur," replied Athos, for amid the general fright healone had preserved the noble calmness and coolness that neverforsook him, "Monseigneur, the Musketeers, when they are not onduty, or when their duty is over, drink and play at dice, andthey are certainly superior officers to their lackeys."

"Lackeys?" grumbled the cardinal. "Lackeys who have the order towarn their masters when anyone passes are not lackeys, they aresentinels."

"Your Eminence may perceive that if we had not taken thisprecaution, we should have been exposed to allowing you to passwithout presenting you our respects or offering you our thanksfor the favor you have done us in uniting us. D'Artagnan,"continued Athos, "you, who but lately were so anxious for such anopportunity for expressing your gratitude to Monseigneur, here itis; avail yourself of it."

These words were pronounced with that imperturbable phlegm whichdistinguished Athos in the hour of danger, and with thatexcessive politeness which made of him at certain moments a kingmore majestic than kings by birth.

D'Artagnan came forward and stammered out a few words ofgratitude which soon expired under the gloomy looks of thecardinal.

"It does not signify, gentlemen," continued the cardinal, withoutappearing to be in the least swerved from his first intention bythe diversion which Athos had started, "it does not signify,gentlemen. I do not like to have simple soldiers, because theyhave the advantage of serving in a privileged corps, thus to playthe great lords; discipline is the same for them as for everybodyelse."

Athos allowed the cardinal to finish his sentence completely, andbowed in sign of assent. Then he resumed in his turn:"Discipline, Monseigneur, has, I hope, in no way been forgottenby us. We are not on duty, and we believed that not being onduty we were at liberty to dispose of our time as we pleased. Ifwe are so fortunate as to have some particular duty to performfor your Eminence, we are ready to obey you. Your Eminence mayperceive," continued Athos, knitting his brow, for this sort ofinvestigation began to annoy him, "that we have not come outwithout our arms."

And he showed the cardinal, with his finger, the four musketspiled near the drum, on which were the cards and dice.

"Your Eminence may believe," added D'Artagnan, "that we wouldhave come to meet you, if we could have supposed it wasMonseigneur coming toward us with so few attendants."

The cardinal bit his mustache, and even his lips a little.

"Do you know what you look like, all together, as you are armedand guarded by your lackeys?" said the cardinal. "You look likefour conspirators."

"Oh, as to that, Monseigneur, it is true," said Athos; "we doconspire, as your Eminence might have seen the other morning.Only we conspire against the Rochellais."

"Ah, you gentlemen of policy!" replied the cardinal, knitting hisbrow in his turn, "the secret of many unknown things mightperhaps be found in your brains, if we could read them as youread that letter which you concealed as soon as you saw mecoming."

The color mounted to the face of Athos, and he made a step towardhis Eminence.

"One might think you really suspected us, monseigneur, and wewere undergoing a real interrogatory. If it be so, we trust yourEminence will deign to explain yourself, and we should then atleast be acquainted with our real position."

"And if it were an interrogatory!" replied the cardinal. "Othersbesides you have undergone such, Monsieur Athos, and have repliedthereto."

"Thus I have told your Eminence that you had but to question us,and we are ready to reply."

"What was that letter you were about to read, Monsieur Aramis,and which you so promptly concealed?"

"A woman's letter, monseigneur."

"Ah, yes, I see," said the cardinal; "we must be discreet withthis sort of letters; but nevertheless, we may show them to aconfessor, and you know I have taken orders."

"Monseigneur," said Athos, with a calmness the more terriblebecause he risked his head in making this reply, "the letter is awoman's letter, but it is neither signed Marion de Lorme, norMadame d'Aiguillon."

The cardinal became as pale as death; lightning darted from hiseyes. He turned round as if to give an order to Cahusac andHoudiniere. Athos saw the movement; he made a step toward themuskets, upon which the other three friends had fixed their eyes,like men ill-disposed to allow themselves to be taken. Thecardinalists were three; the Musketeers, lackeys included, wereseven. He judged that the match would be so much the less equal,if Athos and his companions were really plotting; and by one ofthose rapid turns which he always had at command, all his angerfaded away into a smile.

"Well, well!" said he, "you are brave young men, proud indaylight, faithful in darkness. We can find no fault with youfor watching over yourselves, when you watch so carefully overothers. Gentlemen, I have not forgotten the night in which youserved me as an escort to the Red Dovecot. If there were anydanger to be apprehended on the road I am going, I would requestyou to accompany me; but as there is none, remain where you are,finish your bottles, your game, and your letter. Adieu,gentlemen!"

And remounting his horse, which Cahusac led to him, he salutedthem with his hand, and rode away.

The four young men, standing and motionless, followed him withtheir eyes without speaking a single word until he haddisappeared. Then they looked at one another.

The countenances of all gave evidence of terror, fornotwithstanding the friendly adieu of his Eminence, they plainlyperceived that the cardinal went away with rage in his heart.

Athos alone smiled, with a self-possessed, disdainful smile.

When the cardinal was out of hearing and sight, "That Grimaudkept bad watch!" cried Porthos, who had a great inclination tovent his ill-humor on somebody.

Grimaud was about to reply to excuse himself. Athos lifted hisfinger, and Grimaud was silent.

"Would you have given up the letter, Aramis?" said D'Artagnan.

"I," said Aramis, in his most flutelike tone, "I had made up mymind. If he had insisted upon the letter being given up to him,I would have presented the letter to him with one hand, and withthe other I would have run my sword through his body."

"I expected as much," said Athos; "and that was why I threwmyself between you and him. Indeed, this man is very much toblame for talking thus to other men; one would say he had neverhad to do with any but women and children."

"My dear Athos, I admire you, but nevertheless we were in thewrong, after all."

"How, in the wrong?" said Athos. "Whose, then, is the air webreathe? Whose is the ocean upon which we look? Whose is thesand upon which we were reclining? Whose is that letter of yourmistress? Do these belong to the cardinal? Upon my honor, thisman fancies the world belongs to him. There you stood,stammering, stupefied, annihilated. One might have supposed theBastille appeared before you, and that the gigantic Medusa hadconverted you into stone. Is being in love conspiring? You arein love with a woman whom the cardinal has caused to be shut up,and you wish to get her out of the hands of the cardinal. That'sa match you are playing with his Eminence; this letter is yourgame. Why should you expose your game to your adversary? Thatis never done. Let him find it out if he can! We can find outhis!"

"Well, that's all very sensible, Athos," said D'Artagnan.

"In that case, let there be no more question of what's past, andlet Aramis resume the letter from his cousin where the cardinalinterrupted him."

Aramis drew the letter from his pocket; the three friendssurrounded him, and the three lackeys grouped themselves againnear the wine jar.

"You had only read a line or two," said D'Artagnan; "read theletter again from the commencement."

"Willingly," said Aramis.

"My dear Cousin, I think I shall make up my mind to set out forBethune, where my sister has placed our little servant in theconvent of the Carmelites; this poor child is quite resigned, asshe knows she cannot live elsewhere without the salvation of hersoul being in danger. Nevertheless, if the affairs of our familyare arranged, as we hope they will be, I believe she will run therisk of being damned, and will return to those she regrets,particularly as she knows they are always thinking of her.Meanwhile, she is not very wretched; what she most desires is aletter from her intended. I know that such viands pass withdifficulty through convent gratings; but after all, as I havegiven you proofs, my dear cousin, I am not unskilled in suchaffairs, and I will take charge of the commission. My sisterthanks you for your good and eternal remembrance. She hasexperienced much anxiety; but she is now at length a littlereassured, having sent her secretary away in order that nothingmay happen unexpectedly.

"Adieu, my dear cousin. Tell us news of yourself as often as youcan; that is to say, as often as you can with safety. I embraceyou.

"Marie Michon."

"Oh, what do I not owe you, Aramis?" said D'Artagnan. "DearConstance! I have at length, then, intelligence of you. Shelives; she is in safety in a convent; she is at Bethune! Whereis Bethune, Athos?"

"Why, upon the frontiers of Artois and of Flanders. The siegeonce over, we shall be able to make a tour in that direction."

"And that will not be long, it is to be hoped," said Porthos;"for they have this morning hanged a spy who confessed that theRochellais were reduced to the leather of their shoes. Supposingthat after having eaten the leather they eat the soles, I cannotsee much that is left unless they eat one another."

"Poor fools!" said Athos, emptying a glass of excellent Bordeauxwine which, without having at that period the reputation it nowenjoys, merited it no less, "poor fools! As if the Catholicreligion was not the most advantageous and the most agreeable ofall religions! All the same," resumed he, after having clickedhis tongue against his palate, "they are brave fellows! But whatthe devil are you about, Aramis?" continued Athos. "Why, you aresqueezing that letter into your pocket!"

"Yes," said D'Artagnan, "Athos is right, it must be burned. Andyet if we burn it, who knows whether Monsieur Cardinal has not asecret to interrogate ashes?"

"He must have one," said Athos.

"What will you do with the letter, then?" asked Porthos.

"Come here, Grimaud," said Athos. Grimaud rose and obeyed. "Asa punishment for having spoken without permission, my friend, youwill please to eat this piece of paper; then to recompense youfor the service you will have rendered us, you shall afterwarddrink this glass of wine. First, here is the letter. Eatheartily."

Grimaud smiled; and with his eyes fixed upon the glass whichAthos held in his hand, he ground the paper well between histeeth and then swallowed it.

"Bravo, Monsieur Grimaud!" said Athos; "and now take this.That's well. We dispense with your saying grace."

Grimaud silently swallowed the glass of Bordeaux wine; but hiseyes, raised toward heaven during this delicious occupation,spoke a language which, though mute, was not the less expressive.

"And now," said Athos, "unless Monsieur Cardinal should form theingenious idea of ripping up Grimaud, I think we may be prettymuch at our ease respecting the letter."

Meantime, his Eminence continued his melancholy ride, murmuringbetween his mustaches, "These four men must positively be mine."