The Three Musketeers

Athos’s arrival had caused a sensation in the anteroom, for his wound was known to everyone despite all efforts to keep it a secret. The door had remained ajar, and Tréville’s words were greeted by a joyous hubbub. Two or three musketeers, carried away by enthusiasm, drew back the door curtain and looked into the study. Tréville was about to rebuke them sharply when he felt Athos’s hand tighten in his own and saw that he was about to faint.

Unfortunately, Porthos knew no more about Athos’s life than what hearsay told him. It was said that he had suffered great afflictions in his love affairs and that a monstrous betrayal had poisoned his life forever. What that betrayal had been, no one knew.

They were so closely united that they shared whatever they had and each was always ready to help the others, even at the risk of death. They made plans together and carried them out either individually or as a group; they were like four arms that sometimes joined in a single attack and sometimes separated to ward off danger from any direction. Four men like that could surely overcome all obstacles in their path, using either force or guile, and reach any goal they chose, no matter how distant or well defended it might be.

“All for one, one for all.”

Athos was thus an extraordinary man. And yet, despite his distinction and refinement, he sometimes sank into sluggish apathy, as old men sink into physical and mental debility. In his periods of lethargy, and they were many, the radiant side of his nature disappeared, although engulfed in darkness. Then, when the demigod had vanished, what remained was scarcely a man.

“Monseigneur,” Milady interrupted, “I’ll trade you a life for a life, a man for a man; rid me of this one and I’ll rid you of the other.”

“The bearer of this letter has acted under my orders and for the good of the state.

Richelieu”

“We are conspirators, Monseigneur,” said Athos, “but as you saw the other morning, we conspire against the enemy.”

“You’re young,” said Athos. “Your bitter memories still have time to turn to sweet ones.”

Athos’s arrival had caused a sensation in the anteroom, for his wound was known to everyone despite all efforts to keep it a secret. The door had remained ajar, and Tréville’s words were greeted by a joyous hubbub. Two or three musketeers, carried away by enthusiasm, drew back the door curtain and looked into the study. Tréville was about to rebuke them sharply when he felt Athos’s hand tighten in his own and saw that he was about to faint.

Unfortunately, Porthos knew no more about Athos’s life than what hearsay told him. It was said that he had suffered great afflictions in his love affairs and that a monstrous betrayal had poisoned his life forever. What that betrayal had been, no one knew.

They were so closely united that they shared whatever they had and each was always ready to help the others, even at the risk of death. They made plans together and carried them out either individually or as a group; they were like four arms that sometimes joined in a single attack and sometimes separated to ward off danger from any direction. Four men like that could surely overcome all obstacles in their path, using either force or guile, and reach any goal they chose, no matter how distant or well defended it might be.

“All for one, one for all.”

Athos was thus an extraordinary man. And yet, despite his distinction and refinement, he sometimes sank into sluggish apathy, as old men sink into physical and mental debility. In his periods of lethargy, and they were many, the radiant side of his nature disappeared, although engulfed in darkness. Then, when the demigod had vanished, what remained was scarcely a man.

“Monseigneur,” Milady interrupted, “I’ll trade you a life for a life, a man for a man; rid me of this one and I’ll rid you of the other.”

“The bearer of this letter has acted under my orders and for the good of the state.

Richelieu”

“We are conspirators, Monseigneur,” said Athos, “but as you saw the other morning, we conspire against the enemy.”

“You’re young,” said Athos. “Your bitter memories still have time to turn to sweet ones.”