CHAPTER FIVE

D'ARTAGNAN MARVELS AT SWORD-PLAY ON THE STAIRS AND ADMIRES A SHOULDER-STRAP

The King's Musketeers were a body of brave, devil-may-care fellows, and were completely undisciplined towards all except their captain, M. de Treville. They were to be seen everywhere laughing and talking loudly, twisting their moustaches, clanking their swords. Above all, they took the greatest delight in annoying the Cardinal's Guards whenever they could fall in with them. These men took little or no notice of the law forbidding the fighting of duels. Sometimes killed, but more often killing, they were certain of not remaining in prison, M. de Treville being there to demand their freedom.

M. de Treville was praised to the skies by these men who adored him. Nevertheless, fearless as they were, they were obedient to his least word and ready to sacrifice themselves to wash out the smallest insult to him or the Musketeers he commanded.

M. de Treville's headquarters in Paris resembled an armed camp at all times. There were always fifty or sixty Musketeers grouped in the courtyard and corridors. They replaced one another when they were not on duty at the Palace in order to make as great a show as possible. They walked proudly about, armed to the teeth, and ready for anything.

When D'Artagnan presented himself, the assembly was particularly imposing. It seemed that some personage of great importance was to visit M. de Treville. Having passed the massive entrance doors covered with big square-headed nails, D'Artagnan found himself in the midst of a number of swordsmen joking and quarrelling playfully with one another. They stood aside for nobody except an officer, a noble, or a lady.

It was then into the midst of this noise and seeming disorder that the young man advanced with a beating heart. When he had passed one group he breathed more freely, but he could not help noticing that they eyed him with interest. For the first time in his life, proud D'Artagnan felt somewhat uncomfortable.

When he arrived at the foot of the great wide staircase, his discomfort increased. There were four Musketeers on the stairs amusing themselves with sword-play, while ten or twelve others waited on the landing to take their turns. One of the four, stationed on an upper stair, naked sword in hand, prevented, or endeavoured to prevent, the other three from ascending. These three others fenced against him with determined swords, but the Musketeer on the upper stair skilfully kept his three opponents at a distance.

It seemed to be the rule that, when a man was touched, he stepped aside and another took his place. In five minutes three had been slightly wounded, one on the hand, another on the chin, and a third on the ear, by the defender of the stairs. He himself had remained untouched. Such skill and such daring D'Artagnan had never before seen.

At length he was noticed, and a messenger came and asked him what he wanted. He gave his name modestly and requested a short interview with M. de Treville. This request the messenger promised to take to the captain. D'Artagnan now had leisure to look around him.

In the centre of the most lively group was a haughty looking Musketeer of great height, dressed in a manner so different as to attract general attention. He was not wearing the uniform cloak like the others, but a sky-blue doublet, somewhat faded and worn, and over this, a magnificent shoulder-strap embroidered with gold thread, that shone like water-ripples in the sun. From his broad shoulders hung a long cloak of crimson velvet, open in front to show this splendid strap, from which hung the largest sword that D'Artagnan had ever seen.

This Musketeer, it seemed, had just come off guard at the Palace. He complained of having a cold and even coughed from time to time to prove it. It was because of this cold, so he informed those around him, that he had put on his cloak. While he spoke thus with a disdainful air, and twirled his moustache proudly, all admired his richly decorated shoulder-strap, and D'Artagnan did so more than anyone.

"On my word of honour," he, whom they called Porthos, was saying. "I really did buy it myself, with the contents of my own purse."

"Probably," said a Musketeer, laughing, in the same manner as I bought this new purse with the money that somebody else put into the old one."

"It is true, though," said Porthos, "and the proof is that I paid twelve pistoles for it.

"Is it not so, Aramis?" said he, turning towards another Musketeer.

This Musketeer, to whom he appealed for confirmation, was a complete contrast to Porthos. He was a young man about twenty-three. He spoke very seldom, and when he did, slowly and quietly. He bowed very often and in a noble, well-bred manner. He answered the appeal of his friend with a nod of the head, although it is doubtful whether he was paying any attention at all to Porthos's boasting.

This confirmation appeared to dispel all doubts as to the origin of the splendid shoulder-strap, and, although the Musketeers still continued to admire it, the conversation passed to other subjects.

Soon after this, a messenger came out of M. de Treville's office and cried, "M. de Treville awaits M. d'Artagnan."

At this announcement, during which the door of the office remained open, everyone stood silent. Amid this silence the young man crossed the length of the hall and entered the office of the captain of the Musketeers.