And he turned around, so stern with anger, strength, and threat, that the most excited rebels hustled back on one another, in order to escape, and some of them even rolled into the Seine.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan!” murmured Raoul.
“Yes, ’sdeath! in person, and fortunately it seems for you, my young friend. Come on, here, you others,” he continued, rising in his stirrups, raising his sword, and addressing those musketeers who had not been able to follow his rapid onslaught. “Come, sweep away all that for me! Shoulder muskets! Present arms! Aim—”
At this command the mountain of populace thinned so suddenly that d’Artagnan could not repress a burst of Homeric laughter.
“Thank you, d’Artagnan,” said Comminges, showing half of his body through the window of the broken vehicle, “thanks, my young friend; your name—that I may mention it to the queen.”
Raoul was about to reply when d’Artagnan bent down to his ear.
“Hold your tongue,” said he, “and let me answer. Do not lose time, Comminges,” he continued; “get out of the carriage if you can and make another draw up; be quick, or in five minutes the mob will be on us again with swords and muskets and you will be killed. Hold! there’s a carriage coming over yonder.”
Then bending again to Raoul, he whispered: “Above all things do not divulge your name.”
“That’s right. I will go,” said Comminges; “and if they come back, fire!”
“Not at all—not at all,” replied d’Artagnan; “let no one move. On the contrary, one shot at this moment would be paid for dearly tomorrow.”
Comminges took his four guards and as many musketeers and ran to the carriage, from which he made the people inside dismount, and brought them to the vehicle which had upset. But when it was necessary to convey the prisoner from one carriage to the other, the people, catching sight of him whom they called their liberator, uttered every imaginable cry and knotted themselves once more around the vehicle.
“Start, start!” said d’Artagnan. “There are ten men to accompany you. I will keep twenty to hold in check the mob; go, and lose not a moment. Ten men for Monsieur de Comminges.”
As the carriage started off the cries were redoubled and more than ten thousand people thronged the Quai and overflowed the Pont Neuf and adjacent streets. A few shots were fired and one musketeer was wounded.
“Forward!” cried d’Artagnan, driven to extremities, biting his moustache; and then he charged with his twenty men and dispersed them in fear. One man alone remained in his place, gun in hand.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “it is thou who wouldst have him assassinated? Wait an instant.” And he pointed his gun at d’Artagnan, who was riding toward him at full speed. D’Artagnan bent down to his horse’s neck, the young man fired, and the ball severed the feathers from the hat. The horse started, brushed against the imprudent man, who thought by his strength alone to stay the tempest, and he fell against the wall. D’Artagnan pulled up his horse, and whilst his musketeers continued to charge, he returned and bent with drawn sword over the man he had knocked down.
“Oh, sir!” exclaimed Raoul, recognizing the young man as having seen him in the Rue Cocatrix, “spare him! it is his son!”
D’Artagnan’s arm dropped to his side. “Ah, you are his son!” he said; “that is a different thing.”
“Sir, I surrender,” said Louvières, presenting his unloaded musket to the officer.
“Eh, no! do not surrender, egad! On the contrary, be off, and quickly. If I take you, you will be hung!”
The young man did not wait to be told twice, but passing under the horse’s head disappeared at the corner of the Rue Guénégaud.
“I’faith!” said d’Artagnan to Raoul, “you were just in time to stay my hand. He was a dead man; and on my honor, if I had discovered that it was his son, I should have regretted having killed him.”
“Ah! sir!” said Raoul, “allow me, after thanking you for that poor fellow’s life, to thank you on my own account. I too, sir, was almost dead when you arrived.”
“Wait, wait, young man; do not fatigue yourself with speaking. We can talk of it afterward.”
Then seeing that the musketeers had cleared the Quai from the Pont Neuf to the Quai Saint Michael, he raised his sword for them to double their speed. The musketeers trotted up, and at the same time the ten men whom d’Artagnan had given to Comminges appeared.
“Halloo!” cried d’Artagnan; “has something fresh happened?”
“Eh, sir!” replied the sergeant, “their vehicle has broken down a second time; it really must be doomed.”
“They are bad managers,” said d’Artagnan, shrugging his shoulders. “When a carriage is chosen, it ought to be strong. The carriage in which a Broussel is to be arrested ought to be able to bear ten thousand men.”
“What are your commands, lieutenant?”
“Take the detachment and conduct him to his place.”
“But you will be left alone?”
“Certainly. So you suppose I have need of an escort? Go.”
The musketeers set off and d’Artagnan was left alone with Raoul.
“Now,” he said, “are you in pain?”
“Yes; my head is not only swimming but burning.”
“What’s the matter with this head?” said d’Artagnan, raising the battered hat. “Ah! ah! a bruise.”
“Yes, I think I received a flowerpot upon my head.”
“Brutes!” said d’Artagnan. “But were you not on horseback? you have spurs.”
“Yes, but I got down to defend Monsieur de Comminges and my horse was taken away. Here it is, I see.”
At this very moment Friquet passed, mounted on Raoul’s horse, waving his parti-colored cap and crying, “Broussel! Broussel!”
“Halloo! stop, rascal!” cried d’Artagnan. “Bring hither that horse.”
Friquet heard perfectly, but he pretended not to do so and tried to continue his road. D’Artagnan felt inclined for an instant to pursue Master Friquet, but not wishing to leave Raoul alone he contented himself with taking a pistol from the holster and cocking it.
Friquet had a quick eye and a fine ear. He saw d’Artagnan’s movement, heard the sound of the click, and
