The Cabaret of the Image-de-Notre-Dame
At two o’clock the next day fifty thousand spectators had taken their
position upon the Place, around the two gibbets which had been elevated
between the Quai de la Greve and the Quai Pelletier; one close 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 Greve, 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 Chateau of Vincennes,
would be conducted from that prison to the Place de Greve.
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, 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 have still 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 revenues 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. 2d, the Image-de-Notre-Dame; Art. 3d, 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 Fere, 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. “Is it a good country?”
“Excellent, my friend,” replied the count, without making him observe
that Le Mans was in the same direction 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
to-morrow 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 to-day of Monsieur, the king’s
brother; that is all I have to do.”
Raoul asked Grimaud for his sword, which the old man brought him
immediately. “Now then,” added D’Artagnan, opening his arms to Athos,
“adieu, my dear friend!” Athos held him in a long embrace, and the
musketeer, who knew his discretion so well, murmured in his ear—“An
affair of state,” to which Athos only replied by a pressure of the
hand, still more significant. They then separated. Raoul took the arm
of his old friend, who led him along the Rue-Saint-Honore. “I am
conducting you to the abode of the god Plutus,” said D’Artagnan to the
young man; “prepare yourself. The whole day you will witness the piling
up of crowns. Heavens! how I am changed!”
“Oh! what numbers of people there are in the street!” said Raoul.
“Is there a procession to-day?” asked D’Artagnan of a passer-by.
“Monsieur, it is a hanging,” replied the man.
“What! a hanging at the Greve?” said D’Artagnan.
“Yes, monsieur.”
“The devil take the rogue who gets himself hung the day I want to go
and take my rent!” cried D’Artagnan. “Raoul, did you ever see anybody
hung?”
“Never, monsieur—thank God!”
“Oh! how young that sounds! If you were on guard in the trenches, as I
was, and a spy! But, pardon me, Raoul, I am doting—you are quite right,
it is a hideous sight to see a person hung! At what hour do they hang
them, monsieur, if you please?”
“Monsieur,” replied the stranger respectfully, delighted at joining
conversation with two men of the sword, “it will take place about three
o’clock.”
“Aha! it is now only half-past one; let us step out, we shall be there
in time to touch my three hundred and seventy-five livres, and get away
before the arrival of the malefactor.”
“Malefactors, monsieur,” continued the bourgeois; “there are two of
them.”
“Monsieur, I return you many thanks,” said D’Artagnan, who, as he grew
older, had become polite to a degree. Drawing Raoul along, he directed
his course rapidly in the direction of La Greve. Without that great
experience musketeers have of a crowd, to which were joined an
irresistible strength of wrist, and an uncommon suppleness of
shoulders, our two travelers would not have arrived at their place of
destination. They followed the line of the Quai, which they had gained
on quitting the Rue Saint-Honore, where they left Athos. D’Artagnan
went first; his elbow, his wrist, his shoulder formed three wedges
which he knew how to insinuate with skill into the groups, to make them
split and separate like firewood. He made use sometimes of the hilt of
his sword as an additional help: introducing it between ribs that were
too rebellious, making it take the part of a lever or crowbar, to
separate husband from wife, uncle from nephew, and brother from
brother. And all this was done so naturally, and with such gracious
smiles, that people must have had ribs of bronze not to cry thank you
when the wrist made its play, or hearts of diamond not to be enchanted
when such a bland smile enlivened the lips of the musketeer. Raoul,
following his friend, cajoled the women who admired his beauty, pushed
back the men who felt the rigidity of his muscles, and both opened,
thanks to these maneuvers, the compact and muddy tide of the populace.
They arrived in sight of the two gibbets, from which Raoul turned away
his eyes in disgust. As for D’Artagnan, he did not even see them; his
house with its gabled roof, its windows crowded with the curious,
attracted and even absorbed all the attention he was capable of. He
distinguished in the Place and around the houses a good number of
musketeers on leave, who, some with women, others with friends, awaited
the crowning ceremony. What rejoiced him above all was to see that his
tenant, the cabaretier, was so busy he hardly knew which way to turn.
Three lads could not supply the drinkers. They filled the shop, the
chambers, and the court, even. D’Artagnan called Raoul’s attention to
this concourse, adding: “The fellow will have no excuse for not paying
his rent. Look at those drinkers, Raoul, one would say they were jolly
companions. Mordioux! why, there is no room anywhere!” D’Artagnan,
however, contrived to catch hold of the master by the corner of his
apron, and to make himself known to him.
“Ah, monsieur le chevalier,” said the cabaretier, half distracted, “one
minute if you please. I have here a hundred mad devils turning my
cellar upside down.”
“The cellar, if you like, but not the money-box.”
“Oh, monsieur, your thirty-seven and a half pistoles are all counted
out ready for you, upstairs in my chamber, but there are in that
chamber thirty customers, who are sucking the staves of a little barrel
of Oporto which I tapped for them this very morning. Give me a
minute,—only a minute.”
“So be it; so be it.”
“I will go,” said Raoul, in a low voice, to D’Artagnan; “this hilarity
is vile!”
“Monsieur,” replied D’Artagnan, sternly, “you will please to remain
where you are. The soldier ought to familiarize himself with all kinds
of spectacles. There are in the eye, when it is young, fibers which we
must learn how to harden; and we are not truly generous and good save
from the moment when the eye has become hardened, and the heart remains
tender. Besides, my little Raoul, would you leave me alone here? That
would be very wrong of you. Look, there is yonder in the lower court a
tree, and under the shade of that tree we shall breathe more freely
than in this hot atmosphere of spilt wine.”
From the spot on which they had placed themselves the two new guests of
the Image-de-Notre-Dame heard the ever-increasing hubbub of the tide of
people, and lost neither a cry nor a gesture of the drinkers, at tables
in the cabaret, or disseminated in the chambers. If D’Artagnan had
wished to place himself as a vidette for an expedition, he could not
have succeeded better. The tree under which he and Raoul were seated
covered them with its already thick foliage; it was a low, thick
chestnut-tree, with inclined branches, that cast their shade over a
table so dilapidated the drinkers had abandoned it. We said that from
this post D’Artagnan saw everything. He observed the goings and comings
of the waiters; the arrival of fresh drinkers; the welcome, sometimes
friendly, sometimes hostile, given to the newcomers by others already
installed. He observed all this to amuse himself, for the thirty-seven
and a half pistoles were a long time coming. Raoul recalled his
attention to it. “Monsieur,” said he, “you do not hurry your tenant,
and the condemned will soon be here. There will then be such a press we
shall not be able to get out.”
“You are right,” said the musketeer; “Hola! oh! somebody there!
Mordioux!” But it was in vain he cried and knocked upon the wreck of
the old table, which fell to pieces beneath his fist; nobody came.
D’Artagnan was preparing to go and seek the cabaretier himself, to
force him to a definite explanation, when the door of the court in
which he was with Raoul, a door which communicated with the garden
situated at the back, opened, and a man dressed as a cavalier, with his
sword in the sheath, but not at his belt, crossed the court without
closing the door; and having cast an oblique glance at D’Artagnan and
his companion, directed his course towards the cabaret itself, looking
about in all directions with his eyes capable of piercing walls of
consciences. “Humph!” said D’Artagnan, “my tenants are communicating.
That, no doubt, now, is some amateur in hanging matters.” At the same
moment the cries and disturbance in the upper chambers ceased. Silence,
under such circumstances, surprises more than a twofold increase of
noise. D’Artagnan wished to see what was the cause of this sudden
silence. He then perceived that this man, dressed as a cavalier, had
just entered the principal chamber, and was haranguing the tipplers,
who all listened to him with the greatest attention. D’Artagnan would
perhaps have heard his speech but for the dominant noise of the popular
clamors, which made a formidable accompaniment to the harangue of the
orator. But it was soon finished, and all the people the cabaret
contained came out, one after the other, in little groups, so that
there only remained six in the chamber; one of these six, the man with
the sword, took the cabaretier aside, engaging him in discourse more or
less serious, whilst the others lit a great fire in the chimney-place—a
circumstance rendered strange by the fine weather and the heat.
“It is very singular,” said D’Artagnan to Raoul, “but I think I know
those faces yonder.”
“Don’t you think you can smell the smoke here?” said Raoul
“I rather think I can smell a conspiracy,” replied D’Artagnan.
He had not finished speaking, when four of these men came down into the
court, and without the appearance of any bad design, mounted guard at
the door of communication, casting, at intervals, glances at
D’Artagnan, which signified many things.
“Mordioux!” said D’Artagnan, in a low voice, “there is something going
on. Are you curious, Raoul?”
“According to the subject, chevalier.”
“Well, I am as curious as an old woman. Come a little more in front; we
shall get a better view of the place. I would lay a wager that view
will be something curious.”
“But you know, monsieur le chevalier, that I am not willing to become a
passive and indifferent spectator of the death of the two poor devils.”
“And I, then—do you think I am a savage? We will go in again, when it
is time to do so. Come along!” And they made their way towards the
front of the house, and placed themselves near the window which, still
more strangely than the rest, remained unoccupied. The two last
drinkers, instead of looking out at this window, kept up the fire. On
seeing D’Artagnan and his friend enter:—“Ah! ah! a reinforcement,”
murmured they.
D’Artagnan jogged Raoul’s elbow. “Yes, my braves, a reinforcement,”
said he; “cordieu! there is a famous fire. Whom are you going to cook?”
The two men uttered a shout of jovial laughter, and, instead of
answering, threw on more wood. D’Artagnan could not take his eyes off
them.
“I suppose,” said one of the fire-makers, “they sent you to tell us the
time—did not they?”
“Without doubt they have,” said D’Artagnan, anxious to know what was
going on; “why should I be here else, if it were not for that?”
“Then place yourself at the window, if you please, and observe.”
D’Artagnan smiled in his mustache, made a sign to Raoul, and placed
himself at the window.