were beaten; to-day Aramis and I are beaten in our turn. Now
that never happened to us when we were four together. Let us
die, then, as De Winter has died; as for me, I will fly only
on condition that we all fly together.”
“Impossible,” said D’Artagnan; “we are under Mazarin’s
orders.”
“I know it and I have nothing more to say; my arguments lead
to nothing; doubtless they are bad, since they have not
determined minds so just as yours.”
“Besides,” said Aramis, “had they taken effect it would be
still better not to compromise two excellent friends like
D’Artagnan and Porthos. Be assured, gentlemen, we shall do
you honor in our dying. As for myself, I shall be proud to
face the bullets, or even the rope, in company with you,
Athos; for you have never seemed to me so grand as you are
to-day.”
D’Artagnan said nothing, but, after having gnawed the flower
stalk, he began to bite his nails. At last:
“Do you imagine,” he resumed, “that they mean to kill you?
And wherefore should they do so? What interest have they in
your death? Moreover, you are our prisoners.”
“Fool!” cried Aramis; “knowest thou not, then, Mordaunt? I
have but exchanged with him one look, yet that look
convinced me that we were doomed.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
“The truth is, I’m very sorry that I did not strangle him as
you advised me,” said Porthos.
“Eh! I make no account of the harm Mordaunt can do!” cried
D’Artagnan. “Cap de Diou! if he troubles me too much I will
crush him, the insect! Do not fly, then. It is useless; for
I swear to you that you are as safe here as you were twenty
years, ago — you, Athos, in the Rue Ferou, and you, Aramis,
in the Rue de Vaugirard.”
“Stop,” cried Athos, extending his hand to one of the grated
windows by which the room was lighted; “you will soon know
what to expect, for here he is.”
“Who?”
“Mordaunt.”
In fact, looking at the place to which Athos pointed,
D’Artagnan saw a cavalier coming toward the house at full
gallop.
It was Mordaunt.
D’Artagnan rushed out of the room.
Porthos wanted to follow him.
“Stay,” said D’Artagnan, “and do not come till you hear me
drum my fingers on the door.”
When Mordaunt arrived opposite the house he saw D’Artagnan
on the threshold and the soldiers lying on the grass here
and there, with their arms.
“Halloo!” he cried, “are the prisoners still there?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the sergeant, uncovering.
“‘Tis well; order four men to conduct them to my lodging.”
Four men prepared to do so.
“What is it?” said D’Artagnan, with that jeering manner
which our readers have so often observed in him since they
made his acquaintance. “What is the matter, if you please?”
“Sir,” replied Mordaunt, “I have ordered the two prisoners
we made this morning to be conducted to my lodging.”
“Wherefore, sir? Excuse curiosity, but I wish to be
enlightened on the subject.”
“Because these prisoners, sir, are at my disposal and I
choose to dispose of them as I like.”
“Allow me — allow me, sir,” said D’Artagnan, “to observe
you are in error. The prisoners belong to those who take
them and not to those who only saw them taken. You might
have taken Lord Winter — who, ’tis said, was your uncle —
prisoner, but you preferred killing him; ’tis well; we, that
is, Monsieur du Vallon and I, could have killed our
prisoners — we preferred taking them.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
Mordaunt’s very lips grew white with rage.
D’Artagnan now saw that affairs were growing worse and he
beat the guard’s march upon the door. At the first beat
Porthos rushed out and stood on the other side of the door.
This movement was observed by Mordaunt.
“Sir!” he thus addressed D’Artagnan, “your resistance is
useless; these prisoners have just been given me by my
illustrious patron, Oliver Cromwell.”
These words struck D’Artagnan like a thunderbolt. The blood
mounted to his temples, his eyes became dim; he saw from
what fountainhead the ferocious hopes of the young man