“Yes; what then?”
“Well, you can go out by that door whenever you please; for from this moment you are free as the air.”
“I recognize you there, my brave d’Artagnan,” replied Athos; “but you are no longer our masters. That door is guarded, d’Artagnan; you know that.”
“Very well, you will force it,” said Porthos. “There are only a dozen men at the most.”
“That would be nothing for us four; it is too much for us two. No, divided as we now are, we must perish. See the fatal example: on the Vendomois road, d’Artagnan, you so brave, and you, Porthos, so valiant and so strong—you were beaten; today Aramis and I are beaten in our turn. Now that never happened to us when we were four together. Let us die, then, as de Winter has died; as for me, I will fly only on condition that we all fly together.”
“Impossible,” said d’Artagnan; “we are under Mazarin’s orders.”
“I know it and I have nothing more to say; my arguments lead to nothing; doubtless they are bad, since they have not determined minds so just as yours.”
“Besides,” said Aramis, “had they taken effect it would be still better not to compromise two excellent friends like d’Artagnan and Porthos. Be assured, gentlemen, we shall do you honor in our dying. As for myself, I shall be proud to face the bullets, or even the rope, in company with you, Athos; for you have never seemed to me so grand as you are today.”
D’Artagnan said nothing, but, after having gnawed the flower stalk, he began to bite his nails. At last:
“Do you imagine,” he resumed, “that they mean to kill you? And wherefore should they do so? What interest have they in your death? Moreover, you are our prisoners.”
“Fool!” cried Aramis; “knowest thou not, then, Mordaunt? I have but exchanged with him one look, yet that look convinced me that we were doomed.”
“The truth is, I’m very sorry that I did not strangle him as you advised me,” said Porthos.
“Eh! I make no account of the harm Mordaunt can do!” cried d’Artagnan. “Cap de Diou! if he troubles me too much I will crush him, the insect! Do not fly, then. It is useless; for I swear to you that you are as safe here as you were twenty years, ago—you, Athos, in the Rue Ferou, and you, Aramis, in the Rue de Vaugirard.”
“Stop,” cried Athos, extending his hand to one of the grated windows by which the room was lighted; “you will soon know what to expect, for here he is.”
“Who?”
“Mordaunt.”
In fact, looking at the place to which Athos pointed, d’Artagnan saw a cavalier coming toward the house at full gallop.
It was Mordaunt.
D’Artagnan rushed out of the room.
Porthos wanted to follow him.
“Stay,” said d’Artagnan, “and do not come till you hear me drum my fingers on the door.”
When Mordaunt arrived opposite the house he saw d’Artagnan on the threshold and the soldiers lying on the grass here and there, with their arms.
“Halloo!” he cried, “are the prisoners still there?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the sergeant, uncovering.
“ ’Tis well; order four men to conduct them to my lodging.”
Four men prepared to do so.
“What is it?” said d’Artagnan, with that jeering manner which our readers have so often observed in him since they made his acquaintance. “What is the matter, if you please?”
“Sir,” replied Mordaunt, “I have ordered the two prisoners we made this morning to be conducted to my lodging.”
“Wherefore, sir? Excuse curiosity, but I wish to be enlightened on the subject.”
“Because these prisoners, sir, are at my disposal and I choose to dispose of them as I like.”
“Allow me—allow me, sir,” said d’Artagnan, “to observe you are in error. The prisoners belong to those who take them and not to those who only saw them taken. You might have taken Lord Winter—who, ’tis said, was your uncle—prisoner, but you preferred killing him; ’tis well; we, that is, Monsieur du Vallon and I, could have killed our prisoners—we preferred taking them.”
Mordaunt’s very lips grew white with rage.
D’Artagnan now saw that affairs were growing worse and he beat the guard’s march upon the door. At the first beat Porthos rushed out and stood on the other side of the door.
This movement was observed by Mordaunt.
“Sir!” he thus addressed d’Artagnan, “your resistance is useless; these prisoners have just been given me by my illustrious patron, Oliver Cromwell.”
These words struck d’Artagnan like a thunderbolt. The blood mounted to his temples, his eyes became dim; he saw from what fountainhead the ferocious hopes of the young man arose, and he put his hand to the hilt of his sword.
As for Porthos, he looked inquiringly at d’Artagnan.
This look of Porthos’s made the Gascon regret that he had summoned the brute force of his friend to aid him in an affair which seemed to require chiefly cunning.
Violence, he said to himself, would spoil all; d’Artagnan, my friend, prove to this young serpent that thou art not only stronger, but more subtle than he is.
“Ah!” he said, making a low bow, “why did you not begin by saying that, Monsieur Mordaunt? What! are you sent by General Oliver Cromwell, the most illustrious captain of the age?”
“I have this instant left him,” replied Mordaunt, alighting, in order to give his horse to a soldier to hold.
“Why did you not say so at once, my dear sir! all England is with Cromwell; and since you ask for my prisoners, I bend, sir, to your wishes. They are yours; take them.”
Mordaunt, delighted, advanced, Porthos looking at d’Artagnan with open-mouthed astonishment. Then d’Artagnan trod on his foot and Porthos began to understand that this was merely acting.
Mordaunt put his foot on the first step of the door and, with his hat in hand, prepared to pass by the two friends, motioning to the four men to follow him.
“But, pardon,” said d’Artagnan, with the most charming smile and putting his hand on the young man’s shoulder, “if the illustrious General
