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The Three Musketeers

      It was not till the publication of “The Three Musketeers,” in
     1844, that the amazing gifts of Dumas were fully recognised. 
     From 1844 till 1850, the literary output of novels, plays, and
     historical memoirs was enormous, and so great was the demand
     for Dumas’ work that he made no attempt to supply his
     customers single-handed, but engaged a host of assistants, and
     was content to revise and amend—­or in some cases only to
     sign—­their productions.  “The Three Musketeers” was followed
     by its sequel, “Twenty Years After,” in 1845, and the story
     was continued still further in the “Vicomte de Bragelonne.” 
     The “Valois” series of novels, “Monte Cristo,” and the
     “Memoirs of a Physician,” were all published before 1850, in
     addition to many dramatised versions of stories.

I.—­The Musketeer’s Apprenticeship

D’Artagnan was without acquaintances in Paris, and now on the very day of his arrival he was committed to fight with three of the most distinguished of the king’s musketeers.

Coming from Gascony, a youth with all the pride and ambition of his race, D’Artagnan had brought no money; with him, but only a letter of introduction from his father to M. de Treville, captain of the musketeers.  But he had been taught that by courage alone could a man now make his way to fortune, and that he was to bear nothing, save from the cardinal—­the great Cardinal Richelieu, or from the king—­Louis XIII.

It was immediately after his interview with M. de Treville that D’Artagnan, well trained at home as a swordsman, quarrelled with the three musketeers.

First, on the palace stairs, he ran violently into Athos, who was suffering from a wounded shoulder.

“Excuse me,” said D’Artagnan.  “Excuse me, but I am in a hurry.”

“You are in a hurry?” said the musketeer, pale as a sheet.  “Under that pretence, you run against me; you say ‘Excuse me!’ and you think that sufficient.  You are not polite; it is easy to see that you are from the country.”

D’Artagnan had already passed on, but this remark made him stop short.

“However far I may come it is not you, monsieur, who can give me a lesson in manners, I warn you.”

“Perhaps,” said Athos, “you are in a hurry now, but you can find me without running after me.  Do you understand me.”

“Where, and when?” said D’Artagnan.

“Near the Carmes-Deschaux at noon,” replied Athos.  “And please do not keep me waiting, for at a quarter past twelve I will cut off your ears if you run.”

“Good!” cried D’Artagnan.  “I will be there at ten minutes to twelve.”

At the street gate Porthos was talking with the soldiers on guard.  Between the two there was just room for a man to pass, and D’Artagnan hurried on, only to find himself enveloped in the long velvet cloak of Porthos, which the wind had blown out.