The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [35]
D’Artagnan did not budge.
“You’re decidedly a fine lad,” said Athos, shaking the young man’s hand.
“Well, make your choice!” cried Jussac.
“Come on,” said Porthos and Aramis, “let’s do something.”
“Monsieur is full of generosity,” said Athos.
But all three were thinking of d’Artagnan’s youth and were fearful of his inexperience.
“There will be just three of us, one wounded, plus a boy,” said Athos, “and all the same they’ll say we were four men.”
“Yes, but to back out!” said Porthos.
“It’s difficult,” replied Athos.
D’Artagnan understood their indecision.
“Gentlemen, try me anyway,” he said, “and I swear to you on my honor that I will not leave here if we’re defeated.”
“What’s your name, my brave lad?” asked Athos.
“D’Artagnan, sir.”
“Well, then! Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan, forward!” cried Athos.
“Well, gentlemen, have you decided to decide?” Jussac cried for the third time.
“We have, gentlemen,” said Athos.
“And what is your choice?” asked Jussac.
“We shall have the honor of charging you,” replied Aramis, raising his hat with one hand and drawing his sword with the other.
“Ah! so you resist!” cried Jussac.
“Sangdieu! does that surprise you?”
And the nine combatants rushed at each other with a fury that did not exclude a certain method.
Athos took a certain Cahusac, a favorite of the cardinal; Porthos had Biscarat,31 and Aramis was faced with two adversaries.
As for d’Artagnan, he found himself up against Jussac himself.
The young Gascon’s heart beat as though it would burst his chest—not from fear, thank God! there was not a shadow of it in him, but from emulation. He fought like an enraged tiger, circling ten times around his adversary, and twenty times changing his guard and his ground. Jussac was, as they said then, partial to the blade, and had a great deal of experience; however, he had all the trouble in the world defending himself against an adversary who, leaping and agile, deviated from the received rules every moment, attacking from all sides at once, and all the while parrying like a man who has the greatest respect for his own epidermis.
This struggle finally ended by exasperating Jussac. Furious at being kept in check by someone he had considered a mere boy, he became excited and started making mistakes. D’Artagnan, who, though lacking in practice, had a profound theory, redoubled his agility. Jussac, wishing to end it, aimed a terrible blow at his adversary, lunging full length; but the latter parried in prime, and while Jussac was straightening up, slipped under his blade like a snake and ran him through. Jussac collapsed in a heap.
D’Artagnan then cast a quick and worried glance over the battlefield.
Aramis had already killed one of his adversaries, but the other was pressing him hotly. However, Aramis was in a good position and could still defend himself.
Biscarat and Porthos had just scored a double hit: Porthos had received a sword stroke through the arm, and Biscarat through the thigh. But as neither wound was serious, they went at it all the more fiercely.
Athos, wounded anew by Cahusac, turned visibly pale, but did not yield an inch: he only changed sword hands and now fought with his left.
D’Artagnan, according to the laws of dueling of that time, could help someone. While he was trying to see which of his companions needed his aid, he caught a glance from Athos. That glance was of a sublime eloquence. Athos would have died rather than call for help, but he could look, and with his look ask for assistance. D’Artagnan guessed it, made a terrible leap, and landed beside Cahusac, crying:
“Face me, Monsieur le garde, I’m going to kill you!”
Cahusac turned; it was just in time. Athos, whose extreme courage was all that sustained him, dropped to one knee.
“Sangdieu!” he cried to d’Artagnan, “don’t kill him, young man, I beg you; I have an old matter to settle with him, when I’m healed and fit again. Just disarm him, wrench his sword away. That’s it. Good! Very good!”
This exclamation