of the shorter of these two sages by what right he had
touched with his foot creatures of the good God, who were
not dogs. And whilst putting this question, in order to make
it more direct, he applied his great fist to the nose of
D’Artagnan’s recruit.
This man became pale, without its being to be discerned
whether his pallor arose from anger or from fear; seeing
which, the sailor concluded it was from fear, and raised his
fist with the manifest intention of letting it fall upon the
head of the stranger. But though the threatened man did not
appear to move, he dealt the sailor such a severe blow in
the stomach that he sent him rolling and howling to the
other side of the room. At the same instant, rallied by the
esprit de corps, all the comrades of the conquered man fell
upon the conqueror.
The latter, with the same coolness of which he had given
proof, without committing the imprudence of touching his
weapons, took up a beer-pot with a pewter-lid, and knocked
down two or three of his assailants; then, as he was about
to yield to numbers, the seven other silent men at the
tables, who had not stirred, perceived that their cause was
at stake, and came to the rescue. At the same time, the two
indifferent spectators at the door turned round with
frowning brows, indicating their evident intention of taking
the enemy in the rear, if the enemy did not cease their
aggressions.
The host, his helpers, and two watchmen who were passing,
and who from curiosity had penetrated too far into the room,
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were mixed up in the tumult and showered with blows. The
Parisians hit like Cyclops, with an ensemble and a tactic
delightful to behold. At length, obliged to beat a retreat
before superior numbers, they formed an intrenchment behind
the large table, which they raised by main force; whilst the
two others, arming themselves each with a trestle, and using
it like a great sledge-hammer, knocked down at a blow eight
sailors upon whose heads they had brought their monstrous
catapult in play. The floor was already strewn with wounded,
and the room filled with cries and dust, when D’Artagnan,
satisfied with the test, advanced, sword in hand, and
striking with the pommel every head that came in his way, he
uttered a vigorous hola! which put an instantaneous end to
the conflict. A great backflood directly took place from the
center to the sides of the room, so that D’Artagnan found
himself isolated and dominator.
“What is all this about?” then demanded he of the assembly,
with the majestic tone of Neptune pronouncing the Quos ego.
At the very instant, at the first sound of his voice, to
carry on the Virgilian metaphor, D’Artagnan’s recruits,
recognizing each his sovereign lord, discontinued their
plank-fighting and trestle blows. On their side, the
sailors, seeing that long naked sword, that martial air, and
the agile arm which came to the rescue of their enemies, in
the person of a man who seemed accustomed to command, the
sailors picked up their wounded and their pitchers. The
Parisians wiped their brows, and viewed their leader with
respect. D’Artagnan was loaded with thanks by the host of
“Le Grand Monarque.” He received them like a man who knows
that nothing is being offered that does not belong to him,
and then said he would go and walk upon the port till supper
was ready. Immediately each of the recruits, who understood
the summons, took his hat, brushed the dust off his clothes,
and followed D’Artagnan. But D’Artagnan whilst walking and
observing, took care not to stop; he directed his course
towards the downs, and the ten men — surprised at finding
themselves going in the track of each other, uneasy at
seeing on their right, on their left, and behind them,
companions upon whom they had not reckoned — followed him,
casting furtive glances at each other. It was not till he
had arrived at the hollow part of the deepest down that
D’Artagnan, smiling to see them outdone, turned towards
them, making a friendly sign with his hand.