Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
afraid and will disperse.”
“Certainly,” remarked Porthos.
“Ah! do you see?” cried the lieutenant.
“The lights again! this time I, too, saw them,” said
Porthos.
“On! on! forward! forward!” cried D’Artagnan, in his
stentorian voice; “we shall laugh over all this in five
minutes.”
And they darted on anew. The horses, excited by pain and
emulation, raced over the dark road, in the midst of which
was now seen a moving mass, denser and more obscure than the
rest of the horizon.
26
The Rencontre.
They rode on in this way for ten minutes. Suddenly two dark
forms seemed to separate from the mass, advanced, grew in
size, and as they loomed up larger and larger, assumed the
appearance of two horsemen.
“Aha!” cried D’Artagnan, “they’re coming toward us.”
“So much the worse for them,” said Porthos.
“Who goes there?” cried a hoarse voice.
The three horsemen made no reply, stopped not, and all that
was heard was the noise of swords drawn from the scabbards
and the cocking of the pistols with which the two phantoms
were armed.
“Bridle in mouth!” said D’Artagnan.
Porthos understood him and he and the lieutenant each drew
with the left hand a pistol from their bolsters and cocked
it in their turn.
“Who goes there?” was asked a second time. “Not a step
forward, or you’re dead men.”
“Stuff!” cried Porthos, almost choked with dust and chewing
his bridle as a horse chews his bit. “Stuff and nonsense; we
have seen plenty of dead men in our time.”
Hearing these words, the two shadows blockaded the road and
by the light of the stars might be seen the shining of their
arms.
“Back!” shouted D’Artagnan, “or you are dead!”
Two shots were the reply to this threat; but the assailants
attacked their foes with such velocity that in a moment they
were upon them; a third pistol-shot was heard, aimed by
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D’Artagnan, and one of his adversaries fell. As for Porthos,
he assaulted the foe with such violence that, although his
sword was thrust aside, the enemy was thrown off his horse
and fell about ten steps from it.
“Finish, Mouston, finish the work!” cried Porthos. And he
darted on beside his friend, who had already begun a fresh
pursuit.
“Well?” said Porthos.
“I’ve broken my man’s skull,” cried D’Artagnan. “And you
—- ”
“I’ve only thrown the fellow down, but hark!”
Another shot of a carbine was heard. It was Mousqueton, who
was obeying his master’s command.
“On! on!” cried D’Artagnan; “all goes well! we have the
first throw.”
“Ha! ha!” answered Porthos, “behold, other players appear.”
And in fact, two other cavaliers made their appearance,
detached, as it seemed, from the principal group; they again
disputed the road.
This time the lieutenant did not wait for the opposite party
to speak.
“Stand aside!” he cried; “stand off the road!”
“What do you want?” asked a voice.
“The duke!” Porthos and D’Artagnan roared out both at once.
A burst of laughter was the answer, but finished with a
groan. D’Artagnan had, with his sword, cut in two the poor
wretch who had laughed.
At the same time Porthos and his adversary fired on each
other and D’Artagnan turned to him.
“Bravo! you’ve killed him, I think.”
“No, wounded his horse only.”
“What would you have, my dear fellow? One doesn’t hit the
bull’s-eye every time; it is something to hit inside the
ring. Ho! parbleau! what is the matter with my horse?”
“Your horse is falling,” said Porthos, reining in his own.
In truth, the lieutenant’s horse stumbled and fell on his
knees; then a rattling in his throat was heard and he lay
down to die. He had received in the chest the bullet of
D’Artagnan’s first adversary. D’Artagnan swore loud enough
to be heard in the skies.
“Does your honor want a horse?” asked Mousqueton.
“Zounds! want one!” cried the Gascon.
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“Here’s one, your honor —- ”
“How the devil hast thou two horses?” asked D’Artagnan,
jumping on one of them.
“Their masters are dead! I thought they might be useful, so