D'Artagnan approached quickly, making a sign to his two
companions to remain a few steps behind.
"I buy those horses," he said to the groom.
The groom turned toward him with a look of surprise, but
made no reply.
"Didn't you hear, fellow?"
"Yes, I heard."
"Why, then, didn't you reply?"
"Because these horses are not to be sold," was the reply.
"I take them, then," said the lieutenant.
And he took hold of one within his reach; his two companions
did the same thing.
"Sir," cried the groom, "they have traversed six leagues and
have only been unsaddled half an hour."
"Half an hour's rest is enough " replied the Gascon.
The groom cried aloud for help. A kind of steward appeared,
just as D'Artagnan and his companions were prepared to
mount. The steward attempted to expostulate.
"My dear friend," cried the lieutenant, "if you say a word I
will blow out your brains."
"But, sir," answered the steward, "do you know that these
horses belong to Monsieur de Montbazon?"
"So much the better; they must be good animals, then."
"Sir, I shall call my people."
"And I, mine; I've ten guards behind me, don't you hear them
gallop? and I'm one of the king's musketeers. Come, Porthos;
come, Musqueton."
They all mounted the horses as quickly as possible.
"Halloo! hi! hi!" cried the steward; "the house servants,
with the carbines!"
"On! on!" cried D'Artagnan; "there'll be firing! on!"
They all set off, swift as the wind.
"Here!" cried the steward, "here!" whilst the groom ran to a
neighboring building.
"Take care of your horses!" cried D'Artagnan to him.
"Fire!" replied the steward.
A gleam, like a flash of lightning, illumined the road, and
with the flash was heard the whistling of balls, which were
fired wildly in the air.
"They fire like grooms," said Porthos. "In the time of the
cardinal people fired better than that, do you remember the
road to Crevecoeur, Musqueton?"
"Ah, sir! my left side still pains me!"
"Are you sure we are on the right track, lieutenant?"
"Egad, didn't you hear? these horses belong to Monsieur de
Montbazon; well, Monsieur de Montbazon is the husband of
Madame de Montbazon ---- "
"And ---- "
"And Madame de Montbazon is the mistress of the Duc de
Beaufort."
"Ah! I understand," replied Porthos; "she has ordered relays
of horses."
"Exactly so."
"And we are pursuing the duke with the very horses he has
just left?"
"My dear Porthos, you are really a man of most superior
understanding," said D'Artagnan, with a look as if he spoke
against his conviction.
"Pooh!" replied Porthos, "I am what I am."
They rode on for an hour, till the horses were covered with
foam and dust.
"Zounds! what is yonder?" cried D'Artagnan.
"You are very lucky if you see anything such a night as
this," said Porthos.
"Something bright."
"I, too," cried Musqueton, "saw them also."
"Ah! ah! have we overtaken them?"
"Good! a dead horse!" said D'Artagnan, pulling up his horse,
which shied; "it seems their horses, too, are breaking down,
as well as ours."
"I seem to hear the noise of a troop of horsemen," exclaimed
Porthos, leaning over his horse's mane.
"Impossible."
"They appear to be numerous."
"Then 'tis something else."
"Another horse!" said Porthos.
"Dead?"
"No, dying."
"Saddled?"
"Yes, saddled and bridled."
"Then we are upon the fugitives."
"Courage, we have them!"
"But if they are numerous," observed Musqueton, "'tis not we
who have them, but they who have us."
"Nonsense!" cried D'Artagnan, "they'll suppose us to be
stronger than themselves, as we're in pursuit; they'll be
afraid and will disperse."
"Certainly," remarked Porthos.
"Ah! do you see?" cried the lieutenant.
"The lights again! this time I, too, saw them," said
Porthos.
"On! on! forward! forward!" cried D'Artagnan, in his
stentorian voice; "we shall laugh over all this in five
minutes."
And they darted on anew. The horses, excited by pain and
emulation, raced over the dark road, in the midst of which
was now seen a moving mass, denser and more obscure than the
rest of the horizon.
26
The Rencontre.
They rode on in this way for ten minutes. Suddenly two dark
forms seemed to separate from the mass, advanced, grew in
size, and as they loomed up larger and larger, assumed the
appearance of two horsemen.
"Aha!" cried D'Artagnan, "they're coming toward us."
"So much the worse for them," said Porthos.
"Who goes there?" cried a hoarse voice.
The three horsemen made no reply, stopped not, and all that
was heard was the noise of swords drawn from the scabbards
and the cocking of the pistols with which the two phantoms
were armed.
"Bridle in mouth!" said D'Artagnan.
Porthos understood him and he and the lieutenant each drew
with the left hand a pistol from their bolsters and cocked
it in their turn.
"Who goes there?" was asked a second time. "Not a step
forward, or you're dead men."
"Stuff!" cried Porthos, almost choked with dust and chewing
his bridle as a horse chews his bit. "Stuff and nonsense; we
have seen plenty of dead men in our time."
Hearing these words, the two shadows blockaded the road and
by the light of the stars might be seen the shining of their
arms.
"Back!" shouted D'Artagnan, "or you are dead!"
Two shots were the reply to this threat; but the assailants
attacked their foes with such velocity that in a moment they
were upon them; a third pistol-shot was heard, aimed by
D'Artagnan, and one of his adversaries fell. As for Porthos,
he assaulted the foe with such violence that, although his
sword was thrust aside, the enemy was thrown off his horse
and fell about ten steps from it.
"Finish, Mouston, finish the work!" cried Porthos. And he
darted on beside his friend, who had already begun a fresh
pursuit.
"Well?" said Porthos.
"I've broken my man's skull," cried D'Artagnan. "And you
---- "
"I've only thrown the fellow down, but hark!"
Another shot of a carbine was heard. It was Musqueton, who
was obeying his master's command.
"On! on!" cried D'Artagnan; "all goes well! we have the
first throw."
"Ha! ha!" answered Porthos, "behold, other players appear."
And in fact, two other cavaliers made their appearance,
detached, as it seemed, from the principal group; they again
disputed the road.
This time the lieutenant did not wait for the opposite party
to speak.
"Stand aside!" he cried; "stand off the road!"
"What do you want?" asked a voice.
"The duke!" Porthos and D'Artagnan roared out both at once.
A burst of laughter was the answer, but finished with a
groan. D'Artagnan had, with his sword, cut in two the poor
wretch who had laughed.
At the same time Porthos and his adversary fired on each
other and D'Artagnan turned to him.
"Bravo! you've killed him, I think."
"No, wounded his horse only."
"What would you have, my dear fellow? One doesn't hit the
bull's-eye every time; it is something to hit inside the
ring. Ho! parbleau! what is the matter with my horse?"
"Your horse is falling," said Porthos, reining in his own.
In truth, the lieutenant's horse stumbled and fell on his
knees; then a rattling in his throat was heard and he lay
down to die. He had received in the chest the bullet of
D'Artagnan's first adversary. D'Artagnan swore loud enough
to be heard in the skies.
"Does your honor want a horse?" asked Musqueton.
"Zounds! want one!" cried the Gascon.
"Here's one, your honor ---- "
"How the devil hast thou two horses?" asked D'Artagnan,
jumping on one of them.
"Their masters are dead! I thought they might be useful, so
I took them."
Meantime Porthos had reloaded his pistols.
"Be on the qui vive!" cried D'Artagnan. "Here are two other
cavaliers."
As he spoke, two horsemen advanced at full speed.
"Ho! your honor!" cried Musqueton, "the man you upset is
getting up."
"Why didn't thou do as thou didst to the first man?" said
Porthos.
"I held the horses, my hands were full, your honor."
A shot was fired that moment; Musqueton shrieked with pain.
"Ah, sir! I'm hit in the other side! exactly opposite the
other! This hurt is just the fellow of the one I had on the
road to Amiens."
Porthos turned around like a lion, plunged on the dismounted
cavalier, who tried to draw his sword; but before it was out
of the scabbard, Porthos, with the hilt of his had struck
him such a terrible blow on the head that he fell like an ox
beneath the butcher's knife.
Musqueton, groaning, slipped from his horse, his wound not
allowing him to keep the saddle.
On perceiving the cavaliers, D'Artagnan had stopped and
charged his pistol afresh; besides, his horse, he found, had
a carbine on the bow of the saddle.
"Here I am!" exclaimed Porthos. "Shall we wait, or shall we
charge?"
"Let us charge them," answered the Gascon.
"Charge!" cried Porthos.
They spurred on their horses; the other cavaliers were only
twenty steps from them.
"For the king!" cried D'Artagnan.
"The king has no authority here!" answered a deep voice,
which seemed to proceed from a cloud, so enveloped was the
cavalier in a whirlwind of dust.
"'Tis well, we will see if the king's name is not a passport
everywhere," replied the Gascon.
"See!" answered the voice.
Two shots were fired at once, one by D'Artagnan, the other
by the adversary of Porthos. D'Artagnan's ball took off his
enemy's hat. The ball fired by Porthos's foe went through
the throat of his horse, which fell, groaning.
"For the last time, where are you going?"
"To the devil!" answered D'Artagnan.
"Good! you may be easy, then -- you'll get there."
D'Artagnan then saw a musket-barrel leveled at him; he had
no time to draw from his holsters. He recalled a bit of
advice which Athos had once given him, and made his horse
rear.
The ball struck the animal full in front. D'Artagnan felt
his horse giving way under him and with his wonderful
agility threw himself to one side.
"Ah! this," cried the voice, the tone of which was at once
polished and jeering, "this is nothing but a butchery of
horses and not a combat between men. To the sword, sir! the
sword!"
And he jumped off his horse.
"To the swords! be it so!" replied D'Artagnan; "that is
exactly what I want."
D'Artagnan, in two steps, was engaged with the foe, whom,
according to custom, he attacked impetuously, but he met
this time with a skill and a strength of arm that gave him
pause. Twice he was obliged to step back; his opponent
stirred not one inch. D'Artagnan returned and again attacked
him.
Twice or thrice thrusts were attempted on both sides,
without effect; sparks were emitted from the swords like
water spouting forth.
At last D'Artagnan thought it was time to try one of his
favorite feints in fencing. He brought it to bear,
skillfully executed it with the rapidity of lightning, and
struck the blow with a force which he fancied would prove
irresistible.
The blow was parried.
"'Sdeath!" he cried, with his Gascon accent.
At this exclamation his adversary bounded back and, bending
his bare head, tried to distinguish in the gloom the
features of the lieutenant.
As to D'Artagnan, afraid of some feint, he still stood on
the defensive.
"Have a care," cried Porthos to his opponent; "I've still
two pistols charged."
"The more reason you should fire the first!" cried his foe.
Porthos fired; the flash threw a gleam of light over the
field of battle.
As the light shone on them a cry was heard from the other
two combatants.
"Athos!" exclaimed D'Artagnan.
"D'Artagnan!" ejaculated Athos.
Athos raised his sword; D'Artagnan lowered his.
"Aramis!" cried Athos, "don't fire!"
"Ah! ha! is it you, Aramis?" said Porthos.
And he threw away his pistol.
Aramis pushed his back into his saddle-bags and sheathed his
sword.
"My son!" exclaimed Athos, extending his hand to D'Artagnan.
This was the name which he gave him in former days, in their
moments of tender intimacy.
"Athos!" cried D'Artagnan, wringing his hands. "So you
defend him! And I, who have sworn to take him dead or alive,
I am dishonored -- and by you!"
"Kill me!" replied Athos, uncovering his breast, "if your
honor requires my death."
"Oh! woe is me! woe is me!" cried the lieutenant; "there's
only one man in the world who could stay my hand; by a
