Twenty Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part two

“But let us go,” continued De Winter; “let us be off; the

boat must be waiting for us and there is our sloop at anchor

— do you see it there? I wish I were on board already,” and

he looked back again.

“He has seen him,” said Athos, in a low tone, to Aramis.

They had reached the ladder which led to the boat. De Winter

made the grooms who carried the arms and the porters with

the luggage descend first and was about to follow them.

At this moment Athos perceived a man walking on the seashore

parallel to the jetty, and hastening his steps, as if to

reach the other side of the port, scarcely twenty steps from

the place of embarking. He fancied in the darkness that he

recognized the young man who had questioned him. Athos now

descended the ladder in his turn, without losing sight of

the young man. The latter, to make a short cut, had appeared

on a sluice.

“He certainly bodes us no good,” said Athos; “but let us

embark; once out at sea, let him come.”

And Athos sprang into the boat, which was immediately pushed

off and which soon sped seawards under the efforts of four

stalwart rowers.

But the young man had begun to follow, or rather to advance

before the boat. She was obliged to pass between the point

of the jetty, surmounted by a beacon just lighted, and a

rock which jutted out. They saw him in the distance climbing

the rock in order to look down upon the boat as it passed.

“Ay, but,” said Aramis, “that young fellow is decidedly a

spy.”

“Which is the young man?” asked De Winter, turning around.

“He who followed us and spoke to us awaits us there;

behold!”

De Winter turned and followed the direction of Aramis’s

finger. The beacon bathed with light the little strait

through which they were about to pass and the rock where the

young man stood with bare head and crossed arms.

“It is he!” exclaimed De Winter, seizing the arm of Athos;

“it is he! I thought I recognized him and I was not

mistaken.”

“Whom do you mean?” asked Aramis.

“Milady’s son,” replied Athos.

“The monk!” exclaimed Grimaud.

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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After

The young man heard these words and bent so forward over the

rock that one might have supposed he was about to

precipitate himself from it.

“Yes, it is I, my uncle — I, the son of Milady — I, the

monk — I, the secretary and friend of Cromwell — I know

you now, both you and your companions.”

In that boat sat three men, unquestionably brave, whose

courage no man would have dared dispute; nevertheless, at

that voice, that accent and those gestures, they felt a

chill access of terror cramp their veins. As for Grimaud,

his hair stood on end and drops of sweat ran down his brow.

“Ah!” exclaimed Aramis, “that is the nephew, the monk, and

the son of Milady, as he says himself.”

“Alas, yes,” murmured De Winter.

“Then wait,” said Aramis; and with the terrible coolness

which on important occasions he showed, he took one of the

muskets from Tony, shouldered and aimed it at the young man,

who stood, like the accusing angel, upon the rock.

“Fire!” cried Grimaud, unconsciously.

Athos threw himself on the muzzle of the gun and arrested

the shot which was about to be fired.

“The devil take you,” said Aramis. “I had him so well at the

point of my gun I should have sent a ball into his breast.”

“It is enough to have killed the mother,” said Athos,

hoarsely.

“The mother was a wretch, who struck at us all and at those

dear to us.”

“Yes, but the son has done us no harm.”

Grimaud, who had risen to watch the effect of the shot, fell

back hopeless, wringing his hands.

The young man burst into a laugh.

“Ah, it is certainly you!” he cried. “I know you even better

now.”

His mocking laugh and threatening words passed over their

heads, carried by the breeze, until lost in the depths of

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