“Do you think so?” said Porthos.
“I am quite sure of it.”
“Then why,” said the admirable good sense of Porthos,- “then why, if we are in such an easy position, why, my friend, do we prepare cannon, muskets, and engines of all sorts? It seems to me it would be much more simple to say to Captain d’Artagnan, ‘My dear friend, we have been mistaken; that error is to be repaired. Open the door to us; let us pass through, and good-day!'”
“Ah! that!” said Aramis, shaking his head.
“Why do you say ‘that’? Do you not approve of my plan, my friend?”
“I see a difficulty in it.”
“What is it?”
“The possibility that d’Artagnan may come with orders which will oblige us to defend ourselves.”
“What! defend ourselves against d’Artagnan? Folly! Against the good d’Artagnan?”
Aramis once more replied by shaking his head. “Porthos,” at length said he, “if I have had the matches lighted and the guns pointed; if I have had the signal of alarm sounded; if I have called every man to his post upon the ramparts,- those good ramparts of Belle-Isle which you have so well fortified,- it is for something. Wait to judge; or rather, no, do not wait-”
“What can I do?”
“If I knew, my friend, I would have told you.”
“But there is one thing much more simple than defending ourselves,- a boat, and away for France where-”
“My dear friend,” said Aramis, smiling with a sort of melancholy, “do not let us reason like children; let us be men in counsel and execution. But, hark! I hear a hail for landing at the port. Attention, Porthos, serious attention!”
“It is d’Artagnan, no doubt,” said Porthos, in a voice of thunder, approaching the parapet.
“Yes, it is I,” replied the captain of the Musketeers, running lightly up the steps of the pier, and gaining rapidly the little esplanade upon which his two friends waited for him. As soon as he came towards them Porthos and Aramis observed an officer who followed d’Artagnan, treading apparently in his very steps. The captain stopped upon the stairs of the pier when halfway up. His companion imitated him.
“Make your men draw back,” cried d’Artagnan to Porthos and Aramis; “let them retire out of hearing.” The order being given by Porthos was executed immediately. Then d’Artagnan, turning towards him who followed him, said, “Monsieur, we are no longer here on board the King’s fleet, where, in virtue of your order, you spoke so arrogantly to me just now.”
“Monsieur,” replied the officer, “I did not speak arrogantly to you; I simply but rigorously obeyed what I had been commanded. I have been directed to follow you; I follow you. I am directed not to allow you to communicate with any one without taking cognizance of what you do; I am present therefore at your interview.”
D’Artagnan trembled with rage, and Porthos and Aramis, who heard this dialogue, trembled likewise, but with uneasiness and fear. D’Artagnan, biting his mustache with that vivacity which denoted in him the state of exasperation closely to be followed by a terrible explosion, approached the officer.
“Monsieur,” said he, in a low voice, the more impressive, because affecting a calm, and filled with storm,- “Monsieur, when I sent a canoe hither, you wished to know what I wrote to the defenders of Belle-Isle. You produced an order to that effect; and in my turn I instantly showed you the note I had written. When the skipper of the boat sent by me returned; when I received the reply of these two gentlemen [pointing to Aramis and Porthos],- you heard every word the messenger said. All that was plainly in your orders, all that was well followed, well executed, punctiliously enough, was it not?”
“Yes, Monsieur,” stammered the officer; “yes, without doubt, but-”
“Monsieur,” continued d’Artagnan, growing warm,- “Monsieur, when I manifested the intention of quitting my vessel to cross to Belle-Isle, you insisted on coming with me. I did not hesitate; I brought you with me. You are now at Belle-Isle, are you not?”
“Yes, Monsieur; but-”
“But- the question no longer is of M. Colbert, who has given you that order, or of any one in the world whose instructions you are following; the question now is of a man who is a clog upon M. d’Artagnan, and who is alone with M. d’Artagnan upon steps whose base is bathed by thirty feet of salt water,- a bad position for that man, a bad position, Monsieur, I warn you.”