Twenty Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part two

conducted, that Chanleu was almost surrounded. He commanded

a retreat, which began, step by step, foot by foot;

unhappily, in an instant he fell, mortally wounded. De

Chatillon saw him fall and announced it in a loud voice to

his men, which raised their spirits and completely

disheartened their enemies, so that every man thought only

of his own safety and tried to gain the trenches, where the

coadjutor was trying to reform his disorganized regiment.

Suddenly a squadron of cavalry galloped up to encounter the

royal troops, who were entering, pele-mele, the

intrenchments with the fugitives. Athos and Aramis charged

at the head of their squadrons; Aramis with sword and pistol

in his hands, Athos with his sword in his scabbard, his

pistol in his saddle-bags; calm and cool as if on the

parade, except that his noble and beautiful countenance

became sad as he saw slaughtered so many men who were

sacrificed on the one side to the obstinacy of royalty and

on the other to the personal rancor of the princes. Aramis,

on the contrary, struck right and left and was almost

delirious with excitement. His bright eyes kindled, and his

mouth, so finely formed, assumed a wicked smile; every blow

he aimed was sure, and his pistol finished the deed —

annihilated the wounded wretch who tried to rise again.

On the opposite side two cavaliers, one covered with a gilt

cuirass, the other wearing simply a buff doublet, from which

fell the sleeves of a vest of blue velvet, charged in front.

The cavalier in the gilt cuirass fell upon Aramis and struck

a blow that Aramis parried with his wonted skill.

“Ah! ’tis you, Monsieur de Chatillon,” cried the chevalier;

“welcome to you — I expected you.”

“I hope I have not made you wait too long, sir,” said the

duke; “at all events, here I am.”

“Monsieur de Chatillon,” cried Aramis, taking from his

saddle-bags a second pistol, “I think if your pistols have

been discharged you are a dead man.”

“Thank God, sir, they are not!”

And the duke, pointing his pistol at Aramis, fired. But

Aramis bent his head the instant he saw the duke’s finger

press the trigger and the ball passed without touching him.

“Oh! you’ve missed me,” cried Aramis, “but I swear to

Heaven! I will not miss you.”

“If I give you time!” cried the duke, spurring on his horse

and rushing upon him with his drawn sword.

Aramis awaited him with that terrible smile which was

peculiar to him on such occasions, and Athos, who saw the

Page 536

Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After

duke advancing toward Aramis with the rapidity of lightning,

was just going to cry out, “Fire! fire, then!” when the shot

was fired. De Chatillon opened his arms and fell back on the

crupper of his horse.

The ball had entered his breast through a notch in the

cuirass.

“I am a dead man,” he said, and fell from his horse to the

ground.

“I told you this, I am now grieved I have kept my word. Can

I be of any use to you?”

Chatillon made a sign with his hand and Aramis was about to

dismount when he received a violent shock; ’twas a thrust

from a sword, but his cuirass turned aside the blow.

He turned around and seized his new antagonist by the wrist,

when he started back, exclaiming, “Raoul!”

“Raoul?” cried Athos.

The young man recognized at the same instant the voices of

his father and the Chevalier d’Herblay; two officers in the

Parisian forces rushed at that instant on Raoul, but Aramis

protected him with his sword.

“My prisoner!” he cried.

Athos took his son’s horse by the bridle and led him forth

out of the melee.

At this crisis of the battle, the prince, who had been

seconding De Chatillon in the second line, appeared in the

midst of the fight; his eagle eye made him known and his

blows proclaimed the hero.

On seeing him, the regiment of Corinth, which the coadjutor

had not been able to reorganize in spite of all his efforts,

threw itself into the midst of the Parisian forces, put them

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