The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [32]
“Come, come, make up your minds,” Jussac urged.
“Look here,” Porthos said to Aramis, “we must do something.”
“This is very magnanimous of you, Monsieur,” Athos told D’Artagnan, but the three musketeers, realizing how young he was, dreaded his inexperience. Athos summed up the situation: “We should still be but three, one of whom is wounded, plus a mere boy, yet everybody will say that there were four men fighting the guards.”
“Yes, but shall we surrender?” Porthos asked indignantly.
“That is difficult!” Aramis agreed.
D’Artagnan, understanding their irresolution, pressed his point:
“Try me, gentlemen, and I swear on my honor that I will not leave this field if we are vanquished.”
“What is your name, my brave fellow?” Athos inquired.
“D’Artagnan, Monsieur.”
“Well then,” cried Athos, “Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D’Artagnan, forward!”
“Come, along now, gentlemen, have you made up your minds to make up your minds?” Jussac asked for the third time.
“We have,” Athos replied.
“And what is your choice?”
“We are about to have the honor of charging you,” Aramis answered, raising his hat with one hand and drawing his sword with the other.
“So you’re offering resistance, are you?”
“God’s blood, are you surprised?”
At once the nine combatants rushed up to join battle furiously but not without method. Athos singled out a certain Cahusac, a favorite of the Cardinal’s, Porthos paired off with Bicarat, and Aramis was faced with two adversaries. As for D’Artagnan, he was pitted against Jussac himself.
The young Gascon’s heart beat as though it would burst, not with fear, thank God! for he welcomed danger, but with emulation. He fought like a furious tiger, turning dozens of times around his opponent and continuously changing his ground and his guard. Jussac, to quote a phrase then in fashion, was an epicure of the blade and he had had much practice, yet it required all his skill to defend himself; for D’Artagnan was energetic and nimble, departing every instant from the accepted rules of technique, attacking him on all sides at once yet parrying like a man with the greatest respect for his own epidermis.
At length these tactics exhausted Jussac’s patience. Enraged at being held in check by an adversary he had dismissed as a mere boy, he lost his temper and began to make mistakes. D’Artagnan, though lacking in experience, was schooled in the soundest theory; the more wildly Jussac lunged, the more agile the Gascon became. Jussac, determined to have done with him, sprang forward and lunged to the full extent of his reach, aiming a terrible thrust at D’Artagnan; the latter whipped his blade under Jussac’s, parrying in prime, and while Jussac was trying to get on guard again, D’Artagnan’s blade darted like a serpent below Jussac’s and passed through his body. Jussac fell like a log.
D’Artagnan then cast a swift, anxious glance over the field of battle. Aramis had killed one of his opponents but the other was pressing him warmly; nevertheless, Aramis was in good posture and able to look after himself. Bicarat and Porthos had just made counter-hits, Porthos receiving a thrust through his arm, Bicarat one through his thigh; but neither of these wounds was serious and they fought on ever more doggedly. Athos, wounded anew by Cahusac, grew increasingly pale but had not yielded an inch of ground; he had only changed his sword from one hand to the other and was now fighting with his left.
According to the dueling laws then in force, D’Artagnan was at liberty to assist whom he pleased. While endeavoring to ascertain which of his comrades stood in greatest need, he caught a glance from Athos. Its expression was of sublime eloquence. Athos would have rather died than appealed for help, but he could look and, in that look, ask for assistance. D’Artagnan, divining what Athos meant, sprang to Cahusac’s side with a terrible bound, crying:
“My turn, Monsieur le Garde; I am going to slay you!”
Cathusac wheeled about. D’Artagnan had intervened in the nick of time, for Athos, who had been fighting