The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [236]
“Ay, until she breaks loose!”
“Confound it, D’Artagnan, you require too much. I have given you all I had; I assure you I have come to the end of my tether.”
“Athos has a good idea, I think,” said Aramis. “We must warn both the Queen and Lord Winter.”
“Yes, but who will take our messages to Tours and to London?”
“I can vouch for Bazin,” said Aramis.
“And I for Planchet,” said D’Artagnan.
“Of course,” said Porthos. “We cannot leave camp, but certainly our lackeys can.”
“Splendid!” Aramis said blithely. “This very day we shall write the letters, give our lackeys money and send them off.”
“Money!” Athos broke in. “So you are in funds, Aramis?”
The four friends looked at one another. A cloud passed over their brows which, for a moment, had been so serene.
“To arms, friends!” cried D’Artagnan, “I see some black and red specks moving across the plain, yonder. Did you say a regiment, Athos? This is a veritable army!”
“Well, well, here they come!” Athos said coolly. “But what sneaks they are to creep up without a beating of drums or a flourish of trumpets! Ho there, Grimaud, have you finished?”
Grimaud nodded affirmatively, pointing to a dozen corpses which he had placed in the most picturesque and lifelike attitudes: some were porting arms, others seemed to be taking aim, still others stood as though ready, sword in hand.
“Bravo, Grimaud, this does honor to your imagination.”
“I still should like to know what it all means,” Porthos complained.
“Let us beat a retreat first,” cried D’Artagnan. “You’ll understand later.”
“One moment, gentlemen, one moment: give Grimaud a chance to clear away our dishes.”
“These black specks and red specks are growing larger and larger,” Aramis observed. “I agree with D’Artagnan; we have no time to lose if we want to get back to camp.”
“Bless my soul, I have no objection now to an orderly retreat. We wagered would stay here an hour and we have been here an hour and a half!” Athos seemed highly pleased. “That’s all there is to it, gentlemen. Let us away!”
Grimaud had already started off, basket in hand, bearing the dishes and remnants of food back to camp. The four friends followed him out. But they had gone only a dozen yards when Athos exclaimed:
“What the devil are we up to, gentlemen?” he asked, turning back to look anxiously at the bastion.
“Have you forgotten something?” Aramis asked.
“The flag, morbleu! We cannot leave a flag in enemy hands even though that flag is but a napkin.”
Whereupon Athos rushed back into the bastion, mounted the platform and seized the flag. Just then, the enemy, having come within range, opened a murderous fire upon him. Far from being perturbed, Athos seemed to delight in exposing himself to danger. He seemed to bear a charmed life; the bullets whizzed all around him but not one of them so much as grazed him. Athos waved his flag proudly, turned his back on the enemy and calmly saluted the men in the camp. Cries of anger rose from the rebel ranks, cries of enthusiasm from the French.
A second volley followed the first and three bullets piercing the napkin made of it a real battle-stand. From all parts of the camp shouts rose: “Come down, man!”—“For God’s sake—”—“Don’t stay there, idiot!”—and the like. Athos complied in leisurely fashion and rejoined his friends in his own good time. Their anxiety turned to joy as he reached them.
“Come, Athos, hurry up!” D’Artagnan begged him. “Now we have settled every problem except the money problem, it would be foolish to get ourselves killed.”
But Athos continued to walk at a slow, stately pace despite all urgings of his comrades, who seeing their pleas were vain, adjusted their step to his. Grimaud and his basket, far ahead, were both already out of range. Suddenly a furious fusillade thundered across the air.
“What in God’s name is that? What are they firing at now?