Athos and Raoul wandered for some time round the fences of the garden without finding any one to introduce them to the governor. They ended by making their own way into the garden. It was at the hottest time of the day. Everything sought shelter beneath grass or stone. The heavens spread their fiery veils as if to stifle all noises, to envelop all existences; the rabbit under the broom, the fly under the leaf, slept as the wave did beneath the heavens. Athos saw nothing living but a soldier upon the terrace beneath the second and third courts, who was carrying a basket of provisions on his head. This man returned almost immediately without his basket, and disappeared in the shade of his sentry-box. Athos supposed this man must have been carrying dinner to some one, and after having done so, returned to dine himself. All at once they heard some one call out, and raising their heads, perceived in the frame of the bars of the window something of a white color, like a hand that was waved backwards and forwards,- something shining, like a polished weapon struck by the rays of the sun. And before they were able to ascertain what it was they saw, a luminous train accompanied by a hissing sound in the air called their attention from the donjon to the ground. A second dull noise was heard from the ditch, and Raoul ran to pick up a silver plate which was rolling along the dry sand. The hand which had thrown this plate made a sign to the two gentlemen and then disappeared. Athos and Raoul, approaching each other, began an attentive examination of the dusty plate; and they discovered, in characters traced upon the bottom of it with the point of a knife, this inscription:- I AM THE BROTHER OF THE KING OF FRANCE: A PRISONER TO-DAY, A MADMAN TO-MORROW. FRENCH GENTLEMEN AND CHRISTIANS, PRAY TO GOD FOR THE SOUL AND THE REASON OF THE SON OF YOUR MASTERS.
The plate fell from the hands of Athos while Raoul was endeavoring to make out the meaning of these dismal words. At the same instant they heard a cry from the top of the donjon. As quick as lightning Raoul bent down his head, and forced down that of his father likewise. A musket-barrel glittered from the crest of the wall. A white smoke floated like a plume from the mouth of the musket, and a ball was flattened against a stone within six inches of the two gentlemen. Another musket appeared, which was aimed at them.
“Cordieu!” cried Athos. “What! are people assassinated here? Come down, cowards as you are!”
“Yes, come down!” cried Raoul, furiously shaking his fist at the citadel.
One of the assailants- he who was about to fire- replied to these cries by an exclamation of surprise; and as his companion, who wished to continue the attack, had reseized his loaded musket, he who had cried out threw up the weapon, and the ball flew into the air. Athos and Raoul, seeing them disappear from the platform, expected that they would come to them, and waited with a firm demeanor. Five minutes had not elapsed when a stroke upon a drum called the eight soldiers of the garrison to arms, and they showed themselves on the other side of the ditch with their muskets in hand. At the head of these men was an officer, whom Athos and Raoul recognized as the one who had fired the first musket. The man ordered the soldiers to “make ready.”
“We are going to be shot!” cried Raoul; “but, sword in hand, at least let us leap the ditch. We shall certainly kill two of these scoundrels when their muskets are empty.”
And suiting the action to the word, Raoul was springing forward, followed by Athos, when a well-known voice resounded behind them, “Athos! Raoul!”
“D’Artagnan!” replied the two gentlemen.
“Recover arms! Mordioux!” cried the captain to the soldiers. “I was sure I could not be mistaken!”
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Athos. “What! were we to be shot without warning?”
“It was I who was going to shoot you; and if the governor missed you, I should not have missed you, my dear friends. How fortunate it is that I am accustomed to take a long aim, instead of firing at the instant I raise my weapon! I thought I recognized you. Oh, my dear friends, how fortunate!” and d’Artagnan wiped his brow,- for he had run fast, and emotion with him was not feigned.