The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [228]
“What? By asking the cardinal for my head?” cried d’Artagnan, pale with terror.
“That,” said Porthos, “is the Gospel truth. I heard it with my own two ears.”
“So did I,” said Aramis.
“In that case,” said d’Artagnan, letting his arm drop in discouragement, “it’s useless to struggle any longer. I may as well blow my brains out and be done with it!”
“That’s the last stupid thing you should do,” said Athos, “seeing that it’s the only one without remedy.”
“But I’ll never escape,” said d’Artagnan, “with enemies like that. First of all, my unknown man from Meung; then de Wardes, to whom I gave three strokes of the sword; then Milady, whose secret I’ve found out; and, finally, the cardinal, whose vengeance I thwarted.”
“Well,” said Athos, “that only makes four, and we are four, one on one. Pardieu! if we believe the signals Grimaud is making to us, we’re going to have a lot more people to deal with. What is it, Grimaud? Considering the seriousness of the circumstances, I allow you to speak, my friend, but please be laconic. What do you see?”
“A troop.”
“How many men?”
“Twenty.”
“What sort?”
“Sixteen pioneers, four soldiers.”
“How far away?”
“Five hundred paces.”
“Good, we still have time to finish this chicken and drink a glass of wine to your health, d’Artagnan!”
“To your health!” repeated Porthos and Aramis.
“Oh, very well, to my health! Though I don’t think your wishes will be much use to me.”
“Bah!” said Athos. “God is great, as the votaries of Mohammed say, and the future is in His hands.”
Then, draining his glass, which he set down next to him, Athos stood up nonchalantly, took the first gun he came upon, and went to a loophole.
Porthos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan did the same. As for Grimaud, he was ordered to place himself behind the four friends in order to reload the weapons.
After a moment, they saw the troop appear. It was following a sort of connecting trench, which communicated between the bastion and the town.
“Pardieu!” said Athos, “it’s hardly worth bothering ourselves over twenty rascals armed with picks, hoes, and shovels! Grimaud need only have made a sign for them to go away, and I’m sure they would have left us in peace.”
“I doubt it,” observed d’Artagnan, “for they’re advancing quite determinedly from this side. Besides, there are four soldiers with the workers and a corporal, all armed with muskets.”
“That’s because they haven’t seen us,” said Athos.
“By heaven,” said Aramis, “I confess I’m loath to fire on those poor devils of civilians!”
“It’s a bad priest,” replied Porthos, “who takes pity on heretics!”
“In fact, Aramis is right,” said Athos. “I’m going to warn them.”
“What the devil are you doing?” cried d’Artagnan. “You’ll get yourself shot, my dear.”
But Athos took no account of that advice and climbed up to the breach, his gun in one hand and his hat in the other.
“Gentlemen,” he called out, courteously saluting the soldiers and workers, who, astonished at his appearance, stopped some fifty paces from the bastion, “gentlemen, some friends of mine and I are just having lunch in this bastion. Now, you know there is nothing more unpleasant than to be disturbed at lunch. We therefore ask you, if you absolutely must muck about here, to wait until we’ve finished our meal, or to come back later, unless you have a salutary desire to quit the rebellious side and come to drink the health of the king of France with us.”
“Watch out, Athos!” cried d’Artagnan. “Don’t you see they’re taking aim at you?”
“True, true,” said Athos, “but these civilians are very bad shots, and they don’t care about hitting me.”
Indeed, that very instant, four shots