to the discharge and struck down the most daring of the
aggressors. The rage of the soldiers was at its height. The
fire still continued to increase, and a crest of flame and
smoke whirled and spread over the roof of the house.
D’Artagnan could no longer contain himself. “Mordioux!” said
he to Monk, glancing at him sideways: “you are a general,
and allow your men to burn houses and assassinate people,
while you look on and warm your hands at the blaze of the
conflagration? Mordioux! you are not a man.”
“Patience, sir, patience!” said Monk, smiling.
“Patience! yes, until that brave gentleman is roasted — is
that what you mean?” And D’Artagnan rushed forward.
“Remain where you are, sir,” said Monk, in a tone of
command. And he advanced towards the house, just as an
officer had approached it, saying to the besieged: “The
house is burning, you will be roasted within an hour! There
is still time — come, tell us what you know of General
Monk, and we will spare your life. Reply, or by Saint
Patrick —- ”
The besieged made no answer; he was no doubt reloading his
pistol.
“A reinforcement is expected,” continued the officer; “in a
quarter of an hour there will be a hundred men around your
house.”
“I reply to you,” said the Frenchman. “Let your men be sent
away; I will come out freely and repair to the camp alone,
or else I will be killed here!”
“Mille tonnerres!” shouted D’Artagnan; “why that’s the voice
of Athos! Ah, canailles!” and the sword of D’Artagnan
flashed from its sheath. Monk stopped him and advanced
himself, exclaiming, in a sonorous voice: “Hola! what is
going on here? Digby, whence this fire? why these cries?”
“The general!” cried Digby, letting the point of his sword
fall.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“The general!” repeated the soldiers.
“Well, what is there so astonishing in that?” said Monk, in
a calm tone. Then, silence being re-established — “Now,”
said he, “who lit this fire?”
The soldiers hung their heads.
“What! do I ask a question, and nobody answers me?” said
Monk. “What! do I find a fault, and nobody repairs it? The
fire is still burning, I believe.”
Immediately the twenty men rushed forward, seizing pails,
buckets, jars, barrels, and extinguishing the fire with as
much ardor as they had, an instant before employed in
promoting it. But already, and before all the rest,
D’Artagnan had applied a ladder to the house crying, “Athos!
it is I, D’Artagnan! Do not kill me my dearest friend!” And
in a moment the count was clasped in his arms.
In the meantime, Grimaud, preserving his calmness,
dismantled the fortification of the ground-floor, and after
having opened the door, stood with his arms folded quietly
on the sill. Only, on hearing the voice of D’Artagnan, he
uttered an exclamation of surprise. The fire being
extinguished, the soldiers presented themselves, Digby at
their head.
“General,” said he, “excuse us; what we have done was for
love of your honor, whom we thought lost.”
“You are mad, gentlemen. Lost! Is a man like me to be lost?
Am I not permitted to be absent, according to my pleasure,
without giving formal notice? Do you, by chance, take me for
a citizen from the city? Is a gentleman, my friend, my
guest, to be besieged, entrapped, and threatened with death,
because he is suspected? What signifies that word,
suspected? Curse me if I don’t have every one of you shot
like dogs that the brave gentleman has left alive!”
“General,” said Digby, piteously, “there were twenty-eight
of us, and see, there are eight on the ground.”
“I authorize M. le Comte de la Fere to send the twenty to
join the eight,” said Monk, stretching out his hand to
Athos. “Let them return to camp. Mr. Digby, you will
consider yourself under arrest for a month.”
“General —- ”
“That is to teach you, sir, not to act, another time,
without orders.”
“I had those of the lieutenant, general.”
“The lieutenant has no such orders to give you, and he shall
be placed under arrest, instead of you, if he has really