in sight of a small wood, and spurring their horses afresh,
rode in its direction.
As soon as they had disappeared behind a green curtain
sufficiently thick to conceal them from the sight of any one
who might be in pursuit they drew up to hold a council
together. The two grooms held the horses, that they might
take a little rest without being unsaddled, and Grimaud was
posted as sentinel.
“Come, first of all,” said Athos to D’Artagnan, “my friend,
that I may shake hands with you — you, our rescuer — you,
the true hero of us all.”
“Athos is right — you have my adoration,” said Aramis, in
his turn pressing his hand. “To what are you not equal, with
your superior intelligence, infallible eye, your arm of iron
and your enterprising mind!”
“Now,” said the Gascon, “that is all well, I accept for
Porthos and myself everything — thanks and compliments; we
have plenty of time to spare.”
The two friends, recalled by D’Artagnan to what was also due
to Porthos, pressed his hand in their turn.
“And now,” said Athos, “it is not our plan to run anywhere
and like madmen, but we must map up our campaign. What shall
we do?”
“What are we going to do, i’faith? It is not very difficult
to say.”
“Tell us, then, D’Artagnan.”
“We are going to reach the nearest seaport, unite our little
resources, hire a vessel and return to France. As for me I
will give my last sou for it. Life is the greatest treasure,
and speaking candidly, ours hangs by a thread.”
“What do you say to this, Du Vallon?”
“I,” said Porthos, “I am entirely of D’Artagnan’s opinion;
this is a `beastly’ country, this England.”
“You are quite decided, then, to leave it?” asked Athos of
D’Artagnan.
“Egad! I don’t see what is to keep me here.”
A glance was exchanged between Athos and Aramis.
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“Go, then, my friends,” said the former, sighing.
“How, go then?” exclaimed D’Artagnan. “Let us go, you mean?”
“No, my friend,” said Athos, “you must leave us.”
“Leave you!” cried D’Artagnan, quite bewildered at this
unexpected announcement.
“Bah!” said Porthos, “why separate, since we are all
together?”
“Because you can and ought to return to France; your mission
is accomplished, but ours is not.”
“Your mission is not accomplished?” exclaimed D’Artagnan,
looking in astonishment at Athos.
“No, my friend,” replied Athos, in his gentle but decided
voice, “we came here to defend King Charles; we have but ill
defended him — it remains for us to save him!”
“To save the king?” said D’Artagnan, looking at Aramis as he
had looked at Athos.
Aramis contented himself by making a sign with his head.
D’Artagnan’s countenance took an expression of the deepest
compassion; he began to think he had to do with madmen.
“You cannot be speaking seriously, Athos!” said he; “the
king is surrounded by an army, which is conducting him to
London. This army is commanded by a butcher, or the son of a
butcher — it matters little — Colonel Harrison. His
majesty, I can assure you, will be tried on his arrival in
London; I have heard enough from the lips of Oliver Cromwell
to know what to expect.”
A second look was exchanged between Athos and Aramis.
“And when the trial is ended there will be no delay in
putting the sentence into execution,” continued D’Artagnan.
“And to what penalty do you think the king will be
condemned?” asked Athos.
“The penalty of death, I greatly fear; they have gone too
far for him to pardon them, and there is nothing left to
them but one thing, and that is to kill him. Have you never
heard what Oliver Cromwell said when he came to Paris and
was shown the dungeon at Vincennes where Monsieur de Vendome
was imprisoned?”
“What did he say?” asked Porthos.
“`Princes must be knocked on the head.'”
“I remember it,” said Athos.
“And you fancy he will not put his maxim into execution, now
that he has got hold of the king?”
“On the contrary, I am certain he will do so. But then that