I was wrong, a hundred times wrong. I ought to have known
you better by this time; but we are all possessed of a
malignant spirit, which bids us doubt.”
“Humph!” said Porthos. “Don’t you think the executioner
might be Master Cromwell, who, to make sure of this affair,
undertook it himself?”
“Ah! just so. Cromwell is stout and short, and this man thin
and lanky, rather tall than otherwise.”
“Some condemned soldier, perhaps,” suggested Athos, “whom
they have pardoned at the price of regicide.”
“No, no,” continued D’Artagnan, “it was not the measured
step of a foot soldier, nor was it the gait of a horseman.
If I am not mistaken we have to do with a gentleman.”
“A gentleman!” exclaimed Athos. “Impossible! It would be a
dishonor to all the nobility.”
“Fine sport, by Jove!” cried Porthos, with a laugh that
shook the windows. “Fine sport!”
“Are you still bent on departure, Athos?” asked D’Artagnan.
“No, I remain,” replied Athos, with a threatening gesture
that promised no good to whomsoever it was addressed.
“Swords, then!” cried Aramis, “swords! let us not lose a
moment.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
The four friends resumed their own clothes, girded on their
swords, ordered Mousqueton and Blaisois to pay the bill and
to arrange everything for immediate departure, and wrapped
in their large cloaks left in search of their game.
The night was dark, snow was falling, the streets were
silent and deserted. D’Artagnan led the way through the
intricate windings and narrow alleys of the city and ere
long they had reached the house in question. For a moment
D’Artagnan thought that Parry’s brother had disappeared; but
he was mistaken. The robust Scotchman, accustomed to the
snows of his native hills, had stretched himself against a
post, and like a fallen statue, insensible to the inclemency
of the weather, had allowed the snow to cover him. He rose,
however, as they approached.
“Come,” said Athos, “here’s another good servant. Really,
honest men are not so scarce as I thought.”
“Don’t be in a hurry to weave crowns for our Scotchman. I
believe the fellow is here on his own account, for I have
heard that these gentlemen born beyond the Tweed are very
vindictive. I should not like to be Groslow, if he meets
him.”
“Well?” said Athos, to the man, in English.
“No one has come out,” he replied.
“Then, Porthos and Aramis, will you remain with this man
while we go around to Grimaud?”
Grimaud had made himself a kind of sentry box out of a
hollow willow, and as they drew near he put his head out and
gave a low whistle.
“Soho!” cried Athos.
“Yes,” said Grimaud.
“Well, has anybody come out?”
“No, but somebody has gone in.”
“A man or a woman?”
“A man.”
“Ah! ah!” said D’Artagnan, “there are two of them, then!”
“I wish there were four,” said Athos; “the two parties would
then be equal.”
“Perhaps there are four,” said D’Artagnan.
“What do you mean?”
“Other men may have entered before them and waited for
them.”
“We can find out,” said Grimaud. At the same time he pointed
to a window, through the shutters of which a faint light
streamed.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
“That is true,” said D’Artagnan, “let us call the others.”
They returned around the house to fetch Porthos and Aramis.
“Have you seen anything?” they asked.
“No, but we are going to,” replied D’Artagnan, pointing to
Grimaud, who had already climbed some five or six feet from
the ground.
All four came up together. Grimaud continued to climb like a
cat and succeeded at last in catching hold of a hook, which
served to keep one of the shutters back when opened. Then
resting his foot on a small ledge he made a sign to show all
was right.
“Well?” asked D’Artagnan.
Grimaud showed his closed hand, with two fingers spread out.
“Speak,” said Athos; “we cannot see your signs. How many are
there?”
“Two. One opposite to me, the other with his back to me.”
“Good. And the man opposite to you is —-
“The man I saw go in.”
“Do you know him?”