“Seriously,” said one of the survivors, “is it the devil?”
“Ma foi! it is much worse,” said another.
“Ask Biscarrat, he knows.”
“Where is Biscarrat?” The young men looked around them and saw that Biscarrat did not answer.
“He is dead!” said two or three voices.
“Oh, no,” replied another; “I saw him through the smoke, sitting quietly on a rock. He is in the cavern; he is waiting for us.”
“He must know who is there.”
“And how should he know them?”
“He was taken prisoner by the rebels.”
“That is true. Well; let us call him, and learn from him with whom we have to deal.” And all voices shouted, “Biscarrat! Biscarrat!” But Biscarrat did not answer.
“Good!” said the officer who had shown so much coolness in the affair. “We have no longer any need of him; here are reinforcements coming.”
In fact, a company of the Guards, left in the rear by their officers, whom the ardor of the chase had carried away,- from seventy-five to eighty men,- arrived in good order, led by their captain and the first lieutenant. The five officers hastened to meet their soldiers; and in a language the eloquence of which may be easily imagined, they related the adventure and asked for aid. The captain interrupted them. “Where are your companions?” demanded he.
“Dead!”
“But there were sixteen of you!”
“Ten are dead. Biscarrat is in the cavern, and we are five.”
“Biscarrat is then a prisoner?”
“Probably.”
“No,- for here he is; look.” In fact, Biscarrat appeared at the opening of the grotto.
“He makes us a sign to come on,” said the officer. “Come on!”
“Come on!” cried all the troop; and they advanced to meet Biscarrat.
“Monsieur,” said the captain addressing Biscarrat, “I am assured that you know who the men are in that grotto who make such a desperate defence. In the King’s name I command you to declare what you know.”
“Captain,” said Biscarrat, “you have no need to command me. My word has been restored to me this very instant; and I come in the name of these men.”
“To tell me that they surrender?”
“To tell you that they are determined to defend themselves to the death, unless you grant them good terms.”
“How many are there of them, then?”
“There are two,” said Biscarrat.
“There are two- and they want to impose conditions upon us?”
“There are two, and they have already killed ten of our men.”
“What are they,- giants?”
“Better than that. Do you remember the history of the bastion St. Gervais, Captain?”
“Yes; where four musketeers held out against an army.”
“Well, these two men were of those musketeers.”
“And their names?”
“At that period they were called Porthos and Aramis. Now they are styled M. d’Herblay and M. du Vallon.”
“And what interest have they in all this?”
“It is they who held Belle-Isle for M. Fouquet!”
A murmur ran through the ranks of the soldiers on hearing the two words, “Porthos and Aramis.” “The musketeers! the musketeers!” repeated they. And among all these brave men, the idea that they were going to have a struggle against two of the oldest glories of the French army made a shiver, half enthusiasm, half terror, run through them. In fact, those four names- d’Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis- were venerated among all who wore a sword, as in antiquity the names of Hercules, Theseus, Castor, and Pollux were venerated.
“Two men! and they have killed ten in two discharges! That is impossible, M. Biscarrat!”
“Eh, Captain,” replied the latter, “I do not say that they have not with them two or three men, as the musketeers of the bastion St. Gervais had two or three lackeys. But believe me, Captain, I have seen these men, I have been taken prisoner by them, I know them; they alone would suffice to destroy an army.”
“That we shall see,” said the captain, and in a moment too. Gentlemen, attention!”
At this reply, no one stirred, and all prepared to obey. Biscarrat alone risked a last attempt. “Monsieur,” said he, in a low voice, “believe me; let us pass on our way. Those two men, those two lions you are going to attack, will defend themselves to the death. They have already killed ten of our men; they will kill double the number, and end by killing themselves rather than surrender. What shall we gain by fighting them?”