“I have an idea,” said d’Artagnan.
“What is it?” said the Musketeers.
“To arms!” cried Grimaud.
The young men sprang up, and seized their muskets.
This time a small troop advanced, consisting of from twenty to twenty-five men; but they were not pioneers, they were soldiers of the garrison.
“Shall we return to the camp?” said Porthos. “I don’t think the sides are equal.”
“Impossible, for three reasons,” replied Athos. “The first, that we have not finished breakfast; the second, that we still have some very important things to say; and the third, that it yet wants ten minutes before the lapse of the hour.”
“Well, then,” said Aramis, “we must form a plan of battle.”
“That’s very simple,” replied Athos. “As soon as the enemy are within musket shot, we must fire upon them. If they continue to advance, we must fire again. We must fire as long as we have loaded guns. If those who remain of the troop persist in coming to the assault, we will allow the besiegers to get as far as the ditch, and then we will push down upon their heads that strip of wall which keeps its perpendicular by a miracle.”
“Bravo!” cried Porthos. “Decidedly, Athos, you were born to be a general, and the cardinal, who fancies himself a great soldier, is nothing beside you.”
“Gentlemen,” said Athos, “no divided attention, I beg; let each one pick out his man.”
“I cover mine,” said d’Artagnan.
“And I mine,” said Porthos.
“And I mine,” said Aramis.
“Fire, then,” said Athos.
The four muskets made but one report, but four men fell.
The drum immediately beat, and the little troop advanced at charging pace.
Then the shots were repeated without regularity, but always aimed with the same accuracy. Nevertheless, as if they had been aware of the numerical weakness of the friends, the Rochellais continued to advance in quick time.
With every three shots at least two men fell; but the march of those who remained was not slackened.
Arrived at the foot of the bastion, there were still more than a dozen of the enemy. A last discharge welcomed them, but did not stop them; they jumped into the ditch, and prepared to scale the breach.
“Now, my friends,” said Athos, “finish them at a blow. To the wall; to the wall!”
And the four friends, seconded by Grimaud, pushed with the barrels of their muskets an enormous sheet of the wall, which bent as if pushed by the wind, and detaching itself from its base, fell with a horrible crash into the ditch. Then a fearful crash was heard; a cloud of dust mounted toward the sky–and all was over!
“Can we have destroyed them all, from the first to the last?” said Athos.
“My faith, it appears so!” said d’Artagnan.
“No,” cried Porthos; “there go three or four, limping away.”
In fact, three or four of these unfortunate men, covered with dirt and blood, fled along the hollow way, and at length regained the city. These were all who were left of the little troop.
Athos looked at his watch.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “we have been here an hour, and our wager is won; but we will be fair players. Besides, d’Artagnan has not told us his idea yet.”
And the Musketeer, with his usual coolness, reseated himself before the remains of the breakfast.
“My idea?” said d’Artagnan.
“Yes; you said you had an idea,” said Athos.
“Oh, I remember,” said d’Artagnan. “Well, I will go to England a second time; I will go and find Buckingham.”
“You shall not do that, d’Artagnan,” said Athos, coolly.
“And why not? Have I not been there once?”
“Yes; but at that period we were not at war. At that period Buckingham was an ally, and not an enemy. What you would now do amounts to treason.”
D’Artagnan perceived the force of this reasoning, and was silent.
“But,” said Porthos, “I think I have an idea, in my turn.”
“Silence for Monsieur Porthos’s idea!” said Aramis.
“I will ask leave of absence of Monsieur de Treville, on some pretext or other which you must invent; I am not very clever at pretexts. Milady does not know me; I will get access to her without her suspecting me, and when I catch my beauty, I will strangle her.”