• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

But when Mousqueton came to announce that the horses were ready, and they got up from the table, the stranger proposed the cardinal’s health to Porthos. Porthos replied that he could ask for nothing better, if the stranger in turn would drink to the king’s health. The stranger cried that he knew no other king than His Eminence. Porthos called him a drunkard; the stranger drew his sword.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” said Athos, “but never mind, there’s no backing out now. Kill the man and catch up with us as quickly as you can.”

And all three mounted their horses again and set off at a gallop, while Porthos was promising his adversary that he would perforate him with every hit known to fencing.

“That’s one!” said Athos, after they had gone five hundred paces.

“But why did the man attack Porthos rather than anyone else?” asked Aramis.

“Because Porthos talks louder than the rest of us, and he took him for the leader,” said d’Artagnan.

“I always said this young Gascon was a wellspring of wisdom,” murmured Athos.

And the travelers continued on their way.

At Beauvais they stopped for two hours, as much to give their horses a breather as to wait for Porthos. After two hours, since Porthos had not come, nor any news of him, they set off again.

A league from Beauvais, at a place where the road narrowed between two banks, they met eight or ten men who, profiting from the fact that the roadway was unpaved in that place, made it look as though they were working at digging holes and opening out muddy ruts.

Aramis, fearing to dirty his boots in this artificial mire, apostrophized them severely. Athos wanted to restrain him, but it was too late. The workers set about jeering at the travelers, and their insolence made even the cool Athos lose his head and drive his horse at one of them.

Then the men all backed away to the ditch and there picked up hidden muskets; the result was that our seven travelers came under fire. Aramis got a bullet through the shoulder, and Mousqueton another that lodged itself in the fleshy parts beneath the lower back. However, Mousqueton was the only one who fell off his horse, not that he was seriously wounded, but, as he could not see the wound, he no doubt thought it was more dangerous than it was.

“It’s an ambush,” said d’Artagnan. “Don’t waste your primer, keep going!”

Aramis, wounded as he was, clung to the mane of his horse, which carried him along with the others. Mousqueton’s horse had rejoined them, and galloped in its place.

“That makes one spare horse for us,” said Athos.

“I’d rather have a hat,” said d’Artagnan. “Mine got blown off by a bullet. By heaven, it’s lucky the letter I’m carrying wasn’t in it!”

“Ah, but they’re going to kill poor Porthos when he comes along!” said Aramis.

“If Porthos was still on his feet, he would have caught up with us by now,” said Athos. “I’m of the opinion that that drunkard sobered up on the dueling ground.”

And they galloped for another two hours, though the horses were so exhausted that it was to be feared they might soon refuse their service.

The travelers went cross-country, hoping to be less bothered that way, but at Crèvecoeur, Aramis declared that he could not go any farther. Indeed, it had taken all the courage he concealed under his elegant form and polished manners to get that far. He grew paler every moment, and they were obliged to support him on his horse. They set him down at the door of a tavern and left Bazin with him, who was, in any case, more cumbersome than useful in a skirmish, and set off again, hoping to spend the night in Amiens.

“Morbleu!” said Athos, when they were on the road again, reduced to two masters and Grimaud and Planchet. “Morbleu! I won’t be their dupe again, and I guarantee you they won’t make me open my mouth or draw my sword from here to Calais. I swear it…”

“Let’s not swear,” said d’Artagnan, “let’s ride hard, if our horses will agree to it.”

And the travelers dug their spurs into their horses’ flanks, at which vigorous stimulation they recovered their strength. They reached Amiens at midnight and