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Updated: July 8, 2025
"A hundred men accustomed to war, sword in hand, are worth ten thousand archers in a surprise. Where is Menneville, that boaster, that braggart, who was to come back either dead or a conqueror?" "Well, monsieur, he kept his word. He is dead!" "Dead! Who killed him?"
I am sure you have understood me perfectly well, have you not, M. Menneville?" "Perfectly," replied the latter. "Now the crowns!" said D'Artagnan. "Shut the doors," he cried, and opened the bag upon the table, from which rolled several fine gold crowns. Every one made a movement towards the floor. "Gently!" cried D'Artagnan. "Let no one stoop, and then I shall not be out in my reckoning."
"And you veiled it?" said the superintendent. "No, for so it happened I had one of my men in the crowd; a new recruit from the provinces, one M. Menneville, whom I like very much. He made his way through the press, saying to the joker: 'Mille barbes! Monsieur the false joker, here's a thrust for Colbert! 'And one for Fouquet, replied the joker.
"I assure you I know absolutely nothing, my dear M. d'Artagnan, and that your words have all been to me so many articles of faith." "I was quite sure you were an intelligent fellow," said the musketeer; "I have tried you for a length of time. These fifty gold crowns which I give you above the rest will prove the esteem I have for you. Take them." "Thanks, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Menneville.
"But," resumed the man, "at the moment the archers were broken, at the moment the fire was set to one of the houses of the Place destined to serve as a funeral-pile for the guilty, this fury, this demon, this giant of whom I told you, and who we had been informed, was the proprietor of the house in question, aided by a young man who accompanied him, threw out of the window those who kept up the fire, called to his assistance the musketeers who were in the crowd, leapt himself from the window of the first story into the Place, and plied his sword so desperately that the victory was restored to the archers, the prisoners were retaken, and Menneville killed.
D'Artagnan remarked among the groups, and those groups the most animated, the face of the cavalier whom he had seen enter by the door of communication from his garden, and who had gone upstairs to harangue the drinkers. That man was organizing troops and giving orders. "Mordioux!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "I was not deceived; I know that man, it is Menneville. What the devil is he doing here?"
"In person," replied the musketeer with his deliberate tone; "it appears that you had in Menneville a pretty enemy." "It was not I, monsieur, who had an enemy," replied Colbert; "it was the king." "Double brute!" thought D'Artagnan, "to think to play the great man and the hypocrite with me.
"Because I might be able to find you again, and, who knows what other good fortune?" He made a sign to Menneville, who listened to all he said with a composed air. "Menneville," said he, "come with me. Adieu my brave fellows! I need not warn you to be discreet."
This dialogue was pronounced at the back of the tent, and in so low a voice that Monk could not hear a syllable of it; he was, besides, talking with Athos. Menneville got himself ready in the meantime, or rather received the orders of his leader. "Well?" said Monk. "I am ready, general," said the fisherman. Monk, Athos, and the fisherman left the tent. "It is impossible!" thought Athos.
He recounted Vatel's expedition to La Fontaine, related the history of Menneville and the skinny fowl to Pellisson, in such a manner that all the table heard it. A tempest of laughter and jokes ensued, which was only checked by a serious and even sad gesture from Pellisson.
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